Slippin’ lyrics

by

Brotha Lynch Hung


[Produced By Dae One]

[Verse 1 – Trizz]
Trip up and get caught slipping
Kill him if he trip me, dispose him and start dipping
I’m riding if you with it, it’s nothing, I’m with the business
Crowd my space if you inches and Imma make this n*gga feel it
Off top you can tell I’m Trizz [?]
n*gga I ain’t kidding, I’m seriously a villain
And that’s the message n*gga, I sign, lick it, and seal it
I give the address to a fake n*gga and then send it
It’s a rap, so I’m as real as it’s getting
The rest of you n*ggas be perpetrating for these b*tches
I’m all about the Benjamins, f*ck how a b*tch is living
Unless she break me off some paper and let me hit it
Cause I’m out to f*cks to give up
A lot of you n*ggas claiming to get it need to give up
I make it, I get it, I’m killing these n*ggas
With no hesitation to give it to n*ggas
I’m plotting [?] get rid of you n*ggas
Leaving no evidence what I did to you n*ggas

[Hook – Trizz]
If he get caught slipping
Kill him while he’s chilling with his b*tch and with his n*ggas
These n*ggas think I’m playing but honestly I ain’t kidding
One of you n*ggas gon feel it with emphasis in a minute
We gon slide on em, and then rob em
Man if it’s really necessary we pull a nine on em
What’s in his pockets, n*gga only a five on him
Left him bleeding in front of his homies till he died on em

[Verse 2 – Trizz]
I’m a f*cking soldier
Tell em Trizz told ya
Blowing on this Dozier, feel like I’m off the coca
At the Panda Rosa, layed up with Rosa
This is how I live, another day in California
Oh he mad at me? f*ck a n*gga, so what?
I’m about to blow up, I got a gig, show up
Promoters better have my f*cking money when I show up
I ain’t doing sh*t till that f*cking money show up
Huh? Break bread or fake dead
I’m on a n*gga head if he don’t come with them feds
It’s nothing to pay a n*gga to fill him up with lead
Here’s a stack in all cash, go put a n*gga to bed
Yup, and don’t forget what I said
Show a n*gga what I’m saying just for thinking I’m playing
Get a n*gga, kill a n*gga, throw away the banger
Feel no remorse cause my passion is for danger

[Hook][x2]

[Verse 3 – Chuuwee]
Catch him slipping on his lonesome
Watch his whole dome split
I don’t need a chrome fifth
I’m going toe to toe with him
n*ggas on that ho sh*t, front door open
So we finna crash the party with some gas and explosives
The blow is too corrosive
Hang me from the cross like the son of Mary Joseph
Believe me, went too strong
As all day long put threats into songs
As bait just to wanna see what n*gga play along
My n*gga Trizz riding shotgun with the AR
Play hard, you n*ggas come up shorter than K. Hart
This sh*t is not a game, and if it was, then we play hard
Always in the kitchen making sure the knives stay sharp
These n*ggas always talking until we walk up and spark em
Regardless if you was kidding my n*ggas took it to heart
We the hardest, with 40 calibers loaded up in your yard
Precaution whenever you talk to us, you f*cking retard

[Hook][x2]

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #
Copyright © 2012 - 2021 BeeLyrics.Net