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wanna kill - pradabagshawty lyrics

(shout out cxto)
(yeah, cxto)

hol’ on, perc’ 10
finna go spin that benz, i got that desert eagle
f*cked up, when i’m off these drugs. i’m thinking ’bout sh*t, evil
hot*box, hit up wit’ them sticks, and everybody geekin’
ar hold a .223, we spinnin’, you cannot defeat it
hit a n*gga up, his mama cryin’, asking’, “what’s the reason?”
snuck in with a .30, and it’s poking, yeah, just like a needle
shooter make him turn his life around, give praise to the deacon
mac*10, pull up on his block, ‘control*alt*delete’ them

youngin’ trippin, he just wanna k!ll, wanna shoot at people
n*gga think i’m playin’, got that switch, it’s in a two*door reaper
catch a opp’, make him disappear, smoke him like sativa
stay up out the streets if y’een ready to meet this f*ckin’ pistol

glizzy hold a .30 i ain’t tryna clique up wit these n*ggas
all my opps, they dead as f*ck
godd*mn, we spin’d on every n*gga
n*gga tried to score, but he couldn’t do it, we k!lled all his hitters
shooter got my back, i got his back, i’m right behind, my n*gga

i’m right behind, my n*gga
we gon’ pull up, we gon’ find you, n*gga
pradabag
pradabag

how the h*ll the p*ssy talkin bout slime, b*tch yo dad a preacher
why the h*ll these n*ggas dropping dimes, i can’t stand these n*ggas
on a opp block, pull up fine, i don’t care bout n*ggas
lean same color as some wine, we sip dirty [?]
spin a ride, twin backseat, n*gga gon hop out gunnin
n*gga thought i ran this sh*t up quick, been a long time coming
foreign freak hoe, at the spot, just flew in from london
rl gang get that plannin, young n*gga up to sum

take off all yall guys, gon shoot this stick until its number one
ar glocks spin shawty pull up trippin we got every gun
these hoes wanna f*ck young pradabag because he having fun
ar with extensions pull up trippin we k!ll everyone

youngin trippin, he jus wanna k!ll, when i shoot at people
n*gga think i’m playin got that switch it’s in a two*door reaper
catch a opp, make him disappear, smoke em like sativa
stay up out the streets if you ain’t ready meet that f*ckin pistol

glizzy hold a 30 i ain’t tryna clique up wit these n*ggas
all my pops dead as f*ck godd*mn we spin on every n*gga
n*gga tried to score but he couldn’t do it we k!lled all they hittas
shooter got my back, i got his back, i’m right behind my n*gga

- pradabagshawty lyrics

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