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lirik lagu 2000 miles – loudpack kap

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[intro: loudpack kap]
n*gga be in full go*mode like 24/8, you know?
we gon’ get straight to that bag every time
like don’t give a f*ck

[verse 1: loudpack kap]
came from the bottom of the map, just drove two thousand miles
n*gga say it’s smoke, we ’bout that smoke, but we don’t smoke no milds
i’m just tryna get it, why you actin’ crazy, talkin’ wild?
knowin’ when i catch you lackin’, lord knows it’s goin’ down
broad day or nighttime, this sh*t here worth a lifetime
these n*ggas talkin’ cray, they ain’t got nan’ cool, then lay ’em down
tell him pick his coins up, but i can’t never drop no dime
gun powder from the carbine, boy, i love to bust that iron
you say you gettin’ money, i say you not, i guess somebody lyin’
n*gga say it’s drill time, we slidin’, guess somebody dyin’
it sound like you readin’ when you rap, you n*ggas barely rhymin’
you n*ggas rockin’ cheap diamonds, them b*tches barely shinin’
[verse 2: the real drippy]
okay, your b*tch head was too good, i had to double back
them n*ggas act like snakes, you know them birds don’t f*ck with that
i just walked inside the jeweler and i spent a couple racks
now them diamonds in my face black like kyla pratt
i get dior out of neimans, i get off*white out of saks
i hit my b*tch from the back, then wrote “drippy” on her back (ayy)
my crib so tall, i think i need an elevator
i remember bein’ hungry, livin’ off a generator
i just bought a .223, them n*ggas better not f*ck with me
okay, my diamonds black and yellow like a f*ckin’ bumblebee
drippy iverson, i just broke a b*tch for thirty*three
she was thirty*three, i think i met her at the doubletree

[verse 3: 10.4 chauncy]
black hoodie, black ski mask, when we slide, we gotta keep them sticks inside the trash bag
sk and the m1 carbine come with the extended mag
n*gga know when we run down, we put that beam right on your ass
young n*gga right on your ass
pop out like i’m jason, it’s ’bout to get ugly like freddy krueger
so watch your mouth before you n*ggas lose it
b*tch, i go dumb just like the three stooges
these n*ggas faker than these action movies
if you ask me, these n*ggas big clueless

[outro: sauce walka]
ooh*wee, ooh*wee
yeah, man, you know what i’m talkin’ ’bout, you lil’ funky*ass b*tch?
that’s how we drippin’ and splashin’ down in the motherf*ckin’ south
bunch of diamonds in our motherf*ckin’ mouth, you know what i’m talkin’ ’bout?
from texas to florida in that motherf*ckin’ order, we right by the motherf*ckin’ water, you know what i’m talkin’ ’bout?
from the bottom of miami all to the way to back to california for a grammy, you know what i’m talkin’ ’bout?
on the beach where it’s sandy with a b*tch named sandy, you under*splash me?
yeah, man, know what i’m talkin’ ’bout, all about these chips, though
all about, that drip, though, you know what i’m talkin’ ’bout?
you f*ckin’ with kap and we ain’t talkin’ ’bout nothin’ that go on your head
we talkin’ ’bout this motherf*ckin’ bread instead
yeah, man, we out in motherf*ckin’ miami with the real motherf*ckin’ haitians with the real motherf*ckin’ gangsters
and we done came down to texas to get real motherf*ckin’ reckless
benz and rolexes
diamonds on the necklace
drippy, drippy, drippy
you b*tch*ass n*ggas can’t get with me
it’s tsf motherf*ckin’ business
we splashin’ all around this motherf*cker
p*ssy*ass n*gga
now tell your b*tch to get her motherf*ckin’ ho up
so you can get your dough up
so you can, punk ass can grow up, ooh*wee

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