Ding Dong lyrics

by

Quin NFN


[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 balls 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 di*k, 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)
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