pull up - tzb & cutthroat musik lyrics
pull up lyrics
[produced by kronic]
[intro: cutthroat]
cutthroat musik entertainment, ayy (gang gang) ayy, you know what the f*ck goin’ on, man (gang gang, b*tch*ass n*gga) whole lotta cutthroat sh*t goin’ on, n*gga
yuh, yuh, ayy
[verse 1: cutthroat]
we all dream to be the best, but you know we scared to fail
either you got hoop dreams, or you playin’ wit’ a scale
i put ice around my neck ‘cause you know the world is h*ll
jesus piece, it got my back like it’s chiropractic, yeah
i from the city where dope boys turn into dope f*ckin’ fiends
i’m from the hood where they ain’t had no daddy in the crib to intervene
i can tell you about my journey and all the sh*t that i done seen
yеah, i had a lot of drugs running through my system at sixteen
riding ‘round reckless through thе southside smokin’ on weed
tryna hit another l!ck before my pockets go on motherf*ckin’ e
we was pourin’ up 4 fo’ 4 like we worked at wendy’s
spending all my money on drugs and the guns and the d*ckie jeans
i didn’t party for a whole month straight when i seen ‘em od
man that sh*t had a n*gga shook, had me shook like ali
whoa, yuh, yuh
[chorus: cutthroat]
big bag now they big mad (mad)
big slab when i pull up (pull up)
yeah, n*gga when i pull up (pull up)
big bag now they big mad (mad)
big slab when i pull up (i pull up)
yeah, n*gga when i pull up (i pull up)
yeah, n*gga when i pull up (i pull up)
big bag now they big mad (mad)
ima pull up in a big slab (yeah)
yeah, n*gga when i pull up
yeah, n*gga when i pull up
[verse 2: tzb]
i can’t give no f*cks about what n*ggas do
a n*gga stuck, cooped up in the f*ckin’ booth
dropped the top off my mind let my thoughts consume
overcame writer’s block with a fork and spoon
i eat n*ggas, ain’t stopping ‘til i reach six figures
got my hands down your throat like a motherf*cking dentist
i’m offended that you would even think about contendin’
n*gga, i p*ss you all off like liquor
never could spare one when i strike like hitler, blitzkrieg on yo ass
dropped more juice than an infant did
yet, the big homie say that i spazz on tracks
‘cause i popped more beats than dre on your ass
copped more weed
sour d tree, but it tastes so sweet
writin’ word for word, no stenography
before i shoot, i gotta give a speech
i’ll have your whole army crying ‘anarchy’
‘fore the end of the night, i might end all beef
gun to my dome, almost called it quits
thought of slanging bricks due to lack of wits
b*tch ass cops might keep their distance
but surveillance systems in the intersections
and they trace your facebook and your phone records
hack in camera phones so they could watch you jack it
and they take your fingerprints and run your tags
then the fed n*ggas stake out your crib
international? you goddam right, n*gga
global database got your ass on sight, n*gga
hide from who? go where? n*gga, we ain’t even on that
broadcastin’ in song lyrics, we gettin’
[chorus: cutthroat]
big bag now they big mad (mad)
big slab when i pull up (pull up)
yeah, n*gga when i pull up (pull up)
big bag now they big mad (mad)
big slab when i pull up (i pull up)
yeah, n*gga when i pull up (i pull up)
yeah, n*gga when i pull up (i pull up)
big bag now they big mad (mad)
ima pull up in a big slab (yeah)
yeah, n*gga when i pull up
yeah, n*gga when i pull up
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