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ding dong - quin nfn lyrics

[intro]
(ay, hold on, hold on, gang)
(ay, ay, ay, ay)
(what the f*ck goin’ on n*gga)
(run that back khi)
(gang, ay)

[quin nfn]
beam on the glock, i play tag when i get ’em
smoking on runts got me laughing, i’m ticklin’
my youngins gon’ dumb, they gon’ crash when i send ’em
i’ma tack a few gnats, have ’em back when i hit ’em

[tme trigga]
he don’t want beef, but you say he a hitta
not enough dope, so we gotta remix ’em
we shoot some shots, and smashed off in the sprinter
he run “too fast”, but these bullets gon’ get him

[quin nfn]
ding dong, we ring his block means we hate him
ching chong, she sling the cat like like i ate it
ring tone, full of that dope cause i made it
ping pong, she eat the b*lls when i spank it
peephole gon’ shoot, n*ggas knowing that’s facts
and i ain’t got a wife, with a cake in my back
hit the corner with bro, look like kobe and shaq
lotta cheese like velveeta, to go with these macs

[tme trigga]
i got a shoota, he only attack
i hit ’em once, and they never come back
n*ggas get mad when they stuck in the back
he was just trappin’, until he got jacked
where i come from n*gga, you never lack
i sent the russians to get me a sack
these bullets miss ’em, we gotta spin back
b*tch we gon’ slide with you, know that’s a fact

[quin nfn]
made me a mil’, so i ride with that tool
these n*ggas cap, but ain’t graduate school
that keef be on fire, make him jump in his pool
and i just slide slide for them racks, 50k just don’t shoot

[tme trigga]
choppa 16, but he still make the news
bro a mechanic, he stay with the tool
you moving too slow, how you looking confused
try one too hard, you gon’ f*ck round and lose
i’ve been leaning all night, and i just poured a deuce
and my shootas gon’ shoot, when he hang out the roof
beat up a pack, b*tch i’m trap money bruce
talkin’ bout robbing me, must be a fool

[quin nfn]
ay b*tch i slide for my n*gga
he got more shots than some liquor
hop out you an op for some dealer
candy paint sprinter, gang know i’m hot in the winter
lotta rocks, make a young n*gga shiver
make ’em pop like tigga, whole lotta shots we deliver
play around, and get popped for that skrilla
she white not vanilla
my glock got a d*ck, like my gender
he play, we gon’ give him his issue (gang)

[tme trigga]
ay, these n*ggas really ain’t thuggin’
i see your face, no i ain’t sayin’ nothing
we can’t find him, so we went for his cousin
he is not wit it, i know that he bluffing
they know i’m hot, like i came out the oven
he thought it was what it was, but it wasn’t
i can’t tote pistols, with less than a dozen

[outro]
(ay, b*tch)
(real, trap, sh*t)
(that’s it)

- quin nfn lyrics

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