lirik lagu matte black – mar90s
[chorus]
yeah, yeah, yeah
in the backseat counting them racks
i’ma die with my gang, that’s a fact
how you die with that strap on your lap?
whip matte black, stick matte black
my b*tch keep asking me am i gothic
you know the fits be all black (jj turn me up)
yeah, yeah, yeah
in the backseat counting them racks
i’ma die with my gang, that’s a fact
how you die with that strap on your lap?
whip matte black, stick matte black
my b*tch keep asking me am i gothic
you know the fits be all black
[bridge]
yeah, i do not want you, lil’ girl, i swear i don’t want that b*tch
told her to carry the glock, she won’t stop grabbing the stick
she think i’m tryna’ f*ck, i really want her to just l!ck
the hundreds they piling up, got so many blues like a crip
[verse]
in a shootout, you know we not missing
i got water, ain’t talking no dishes
diamonds, they glisten, they liquid, let’s get it
these n*ggas, they tucking they chain, they some b*tches
i walk up inside of the club and get litty
models, they with me, bottles, they with me
been here for a hour, i rolled up an ounce
b*tch stuffed her face with that bobby, no whitney
we stand on the table, we stand on the couch
n*gga talk sh*t, then we stomping him out
f*ck all that talking about
my n*ggas shoot through the crowd
my n*ggas really some menaces
guilty, but we pleading innocent
just dropped a bag to my lawyer
beating the case like i’m zimmerman
yeah, i get them bands in a drought
yeah, b*tch tryna dance, but my stick hanging out
yeah, she tryna talk, but my d*ck in her mouth
yeah, i f*cked that b*tch, then i’m kicking her
[bridge]
yeah, i do not want you, lil’ girl, i swear i don’t want that b*tch
told her to carry the glock, she won’t stop grabbing the stick
she think i’m tryna f*ck, i really want her to just l!ck
the hundreds, they piling up, got so many blues like a crip
yeah, i do not want you, lil’ girl, i swear i don’t want that b*tch
told her to carry the glock, she won’t stop grabbing the stick
she think i’m tryna f*ck, i really want her to just l!ck
the hundreds, they piling up, got so many blues like a crip
[chorus]
yeah, yeah, yeah
in the backseat counting them racks
i’ma die with my gang, that’s a fact
how you die with that strap on your lap?
whip matte black, stick matte black
my b*tch keep asking me am i gothic
you know the fits be all black
you know the fits be all black
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