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behind barz - snap capone lyrics

[part 1]
blacked out whip, audi a5
a vest and a nina tryna stay alive
that n-gga ain’t on it, i can read his eyes
i’ll pop him like a wheelie n-gga, feed him five
goodfella snap turn a n-gga ghost
i be in a golf tryna stash some c0ke
slipping with his b-tch, f-cking k!lled them both
i don’t take orders n-gga, okey doke?
i’m driving through east with my stick on me
playing marbs with a broad from sicily
russian roulette with two tec’s
snap capone, ladies man, hugh hef
clothes italiano, b-tch ciao bella
n-gga talking cheese, n-gga mozzarella
i’m in the x6, f-ck your ex b-tch
darg your ex b-tch, that’s my ex b-tch
entry roof darg, no exit
headshot, head rock, tec spit
fiend yard, tell a cat test this
vip spot n-gga, guest list
i know k!llers on the run facing life akh
keep the big .45 in my man bag
i’m with my little n-gga little z
we don’t run from sh-t darg, we run the streets
last n-gga stepped out of line i gave him six
i’ve robbed n-ggas in life cause no one ever gave me sh-t
i’m strapped with a mac, still paro as f-ck
the .357 makes your marrow lift up
mini mac-11 and a white vest
i’m in the white range with yf
who wants beef? who wants a piece of sidebreast?
i’ll shoot him in his face till he’s eyeless
ag jeans, clock the monogram
i’m in the 5 series playing hollowman
i’ll buy my own guns, i don’t borrow fam
i left that n-gga dead, no sorrow fam
n-ggas on my back for a mixtape
a box of buj, caine and mixed tape
it came short by seven grams
i’ma send my link up to heaven fam
i light the place up like seven lamps
and i don’t care if he’s with seven man
i’m still distributing to clienteles
just copped the nina with three hundred rhino sh-lls
i done three years, you couldn’t do a night in jail
i got these jordans before they were out on sale
long-sleeved cashmere polo
mask on my face, zorro
five shots to his torso
six in his neck, guaranteed death (khalas)
i told your p-ssy that this sh-t’s real
.35 spinning like a windmill

[part 2]
i don’t play games, spray the trey deuce
chest shot n-gga, face two
i’m bad boy snap n-gga, blaze who?
little z and little g shoot his face short
i’m getting mad brains in the grey coupe
b-tch all faded off of grey goose
hear my n-gga reekz in the 5 series
take a shot, no insulin, no diabetes
twenty bag cash in my wardrobe
i’m strapped with a mac, the hood’s a warzone
up close and personal, yeah it’s war n-gga
headshot, see the morgue n-gga
two hundred and fifty grams, put it all in pebs
spend money on guns n-gga, f-ck your sket
rolling round wooly, trey and a hoodie
ounces to boxes, n-gga i’m that juggy
shoot him in his chest, blow his heart out his back
i’m strapped, me and re and blackz in the trap
days on this wave when my n-gga’s been remand
i’ll c-ck it and pull it, make the mac scream
yeah, let it sing like blackstreet
i’ll turn a crop yard to a factory
the clip’s all full like a battery
n-ggas strapped, arms out no taxi
b-tch -ss n-ggas get taxed g
got work in the project, m.a.b yes
in school you was a prefect
snap capone squeezed ten
deal with the cards you was dealt n-gga
you’re standing on your own, no help n-gga
i’ve got that white boy, tommy hilfiger
ride for your team, that’s a real n-gga
they see me in their dreams and whisper in the dark
whistle on a darg when i’m creeping past
if that movie goes right then we can split in half
said she wants my heart, ain’t really darg
shine pays though, n-ggas living life
i’ll do this for my brothers that’s doing life
i’m in the c-cl-ss rolling round with lap
i’m still in the trap house chopping crack
listen carefully, you’ll hear my soul crack
i can make you die n-gga, so fly
raised in the hood, tryna make it out
five box deep n-gga, f-ck a drought
i’ll speak with my gun, let’s talk it out
my four fizzy bang, that’s an awesome sound
if i hit his stomach, push his organs out
n-ggas talking bodies like they’ve docked a body
n-ggas talking they’re the hardest out in wooly
but i mash work, gunpowder on my hoodies
free my n-gga notty, hope he gets appeal
gangster persona, n-ggas know it’s real
i’m doing 110 in that cla
thug life, tryna see better days
i spent four bags on a new mac
load up the sh-lls, i’ma slew that
i don’t give a f-ck if your goon’s clapped
i’m tryna send a n-gga where the moon’s at

- snap capone lyrics

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