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lirik lagu back street – lilroc23

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back street lyrics
what the f*ck is you jackin’
n*ggas got sicks we always pistol packin’ (bow)

n*gga whats crackin’?
bow bow bow, bullet holes all in his jacket (jacket)

i got a hitta with snipers and pistols
and he keep the automatics (matics)

caught that n*gga lackin’ on the back street
with the heat, n*gga thats tragic (yuh)

we ridin’ we huntin’ for you lil n*gga
so don’t bother sending me the addy (nah)

oh that’s yo daddy in the cadi?
cook his ass up his brains look like beef patties (boom, boom)

saw the n*gga on the news they took his jews, yo gang goin’ out sadly

green dots on his back he ain’t even know
you can tell that he ain’t ready (nah, nah)

he a automatic opp if the n*gga ain’t part of my circle (gang!)
send shots to his legs i’m makin’ him hop he start doing do hurdles
(i’m makin’ em jump!)
n*ggas d*ck sucking but i understand why them n*ggas really hate me (yuh, yuh)
cuz i’m gettin’ the bucks, pull the racks out now his b*tch wanna f*ckin’ date me

i’m in the stu by myself, i’m turnt the f*ck up
i don’t need a soul (no!)

he talkin’ crazy, choppa shut his b*tch ass up
put him under control (bow, bow bow)

the winter be hot the bl!ck just fire em’ up when the weather get cold (get cold)
sum n*gga just called me talking h*lla crazy and i put him on hold
if my dog need a pistol, i’m sliding it to em’ every time, n*gga no problem (nah)

the opps ain’t safe out here, i call they goofy ass some broken ass condoms (condoms)

p*ssy n*ggas tried to hit the corner actin’ like i ain’t saw them (yuh!)
it’s all good though cuz i promise ima mother f*ckin’ cross em (boom!)

what the f*ck is you jackin’
n*ggas got sicks we always pistol packin’ (packin’)

n*gga whats crackin’?
bow bow bow, bullet holes all in his jacket (yuh, yuh)

i got a hitta with snipers and pistols
and he keep the automatics (i keep em’ keep em’)
caught that n*gga lackin’ on the back street
with the heat, hold up hold up (wait!, wait!)

what the f*ck is you jackin’
n*ggas got sicks we always pistol packin’ (packin’)

n*gga whats crackin’?
bow bow bow, bullet holes all in his jacket (yuh, yuh!)

i got a hitta with snipers and pistols
and he keep the automatics (bow, bow, bow!)

caught that n*gga lackin’ on the back street
with the heat, n*gga thats tragic (yuh, gang)

gang gang gang n*gga
bow, bow bow

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