wolverines - twe3zy lyrics
[verse 1: twe3zy]
here we go, on this hot ass sh*t
speakers bump and spit like clips
talk that sh*t, put in a crypt
f*ck you and f*ck your script
load the mag, hollow tips
you’re laid out, tagged toe tip
chapped ass lips, call up kip
make your skull drip, you hit bricks
call you young zeroni, now starting digging up your hole
run the sh*t under pepperoni, or you’ll get the pole
whip a zamboni, chase you down and take your soul
talk any sh*t, brain gets unrolled
rapping like i’m mainstream, but that sh*t is cold
talking about that hot, but you don’t act as bold
who do you think you are? i buy your life, already sold
rip out your grill. can’t melt it down, fake ass gold
[chorus: twe3zy]
you know that we got it. got that fire, got that chronic
no satire, not a sonnet. you a b*tch, put on your bonnet
you know that we got it. got that fire, got that chronic
no satire, not a sonnet. you a b*tch, put on your bonnet
[verse 2: e!]
put on any competition , i’m really hopin’ that he got it in him
challenge me, yeah he probably trippin’
either that or he bicardi sippin’, but it’s too late for kiddin’
don’t let your mans gas you, think you good at rappin’
cause we gon’ play you, yeah, yeah
diss and defeat, rinse, repeat, and god can’t save you
yeah, keep my name out your mouth, i’ll make you look silly
i had no competition, ain’t n0body rappin’ with me
it is what it is, i don’t care about your feelings
look, can’t f*ck with none of that fake sh*t
y’all never get my respect
and her friend request stay in the friend requests
until she tryna throw me that neck, b*tch
[chorus: twe3zy]
you know that we got it. got that fire, got that chronic
no satire, not a sonnet. you a b*tch, put on your bonnet
you know that we got it. got that fire, got that chronic
no satire, not a sonnet. you a b*tch, put on your bonnet
[hook: e!]
best of the best in the big leagues
ain’t sh*t you could ever say to offend me
ninety other rappers in the city
but rest assured, ain’t n0body f*ckin’ with me
[verse 3: twe3zy]
gotta bag and now i’m on the mat
wrap your body with rags when the dirt getting stacked
now that b*tch dead for the winter
chip off the old block, and now you are just a splinter
death said come hither. but i didn’t listen, i just dissed em
send your shots, you gonna miss em
i’m on a mission for the top position
[verse 4: e!]
f*ck that talkin’ sh*t, 40 in this b*tch
shoot it from the hip, bet he do not miss
funny thing about it, ain’t even sneak it in
homie got it with him, better watch your lips
do not give a f*ck ’bout who you runnin’ with
if he talking crazy, he can meet the 5th
if he got a pocket, we gon’ pocket check him
pocket all his sh*t and throw him in a ditch
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