loose cannon - az chike lyrics
[intro]
(low the great)
[verse 1]
okay, loose cannon, rude manish, can’t stand it
i up cheese, i love bands, i’m a bandit
bring ’em h*ll, got ’em screaming godd*mn it
got a lil’ latina, she shoot first, she speak spanish
i’m a pop star, i pop percs and pop n*ggas
please don’t ask me ’bout me, no n*gga that’s not with us
n*gga, get it right, get it wrong, you gon’ get left
before you beef with me, go get back, you gotta finish that
n*gga, you gotta boss up
in the field, throw up tackle, get him tossed up
i want him dead, bring his head, it don’t cost much
hit the club, let the gang in, yeah, all of us
hundred bands, b*tch, i’m the f*ckin’ man
if i f*ck once, i’m guaranteed i can f*ck again
n*ggas out of pocket, pocket watching, he’s a f*ckin’ fan
i’m the type of n*gga get mad and go spend some bands
[chorus]
n*gga, where your bread at?
baby give me—yeah, where your head at?
you ain’t beefin’ ’bout no money, i’ma dead that
i could tell you boss up, but i already said that (let’s get it)
n*gga, where your bread at?
baby give me—yeah, where your head at?
you ain’t beefin’ ’bout no money, i’ma dead that (i’ma dead that)
i could tell you boss up, but i already said that (let’s get it)
[verse 2]
mr. keep a bad b*tch case my main one tripping
lil’*ass chain on his neck got me squntin’
throw rocks and hot to handle, don’t start somethin’ you can’t finish
n*ggas love to run they mouth, leave that sh*t to the b*tches
never ran, do sh*t like a million (like a million)
never had to post another n*gga bands
tired of being humble, boy, that sh*t ain’t got me nothing
i’m on the ‘gram every day posted up with at least a hundred, n*gga
yeah, put them lil’ racks up
sixty thou’ in thirty days, that was last month
price was high, but a n*gga still gas up
b*tch, you a ho tryna wife, that don’t add up
every b*tch i had crazy ’bout me
they done lied, they done cried, don’t care what they say about me
hate to see you doing good, laugh when you doing bad
that’s why i never give a f*ck, up them racks, make ’em mad, b*tch
[chorus]
n*gga, where your bread at?
baby give me—yeah, where your head at?
you ain’t beefin’ ’bout no money, i’ma dead that
i could tell you boss up, but i already said that (let’s get it)
n*gga, where your bread at?
baby give me—yeah, where your head at?
you ain’t beefin’ ’bout no money, i’ma dead that (i’ma dead that)
i could tell you boss up, but i already said that (let’s get it)
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