lirik lagu straight facts – sg tip & 21 savage
[intro: sg tip]
this sound like some drill flow sh*t
yeah
that just what it is
uh huh
[verse 1: sg tip]
tell balenci to cut the check
all these runners i done bought
have a sit down for what?
you a pig, i don’t wanna talk
got a chain on my stick, i let that b*tch walk
ain’t sh*t sweet, i’ll burn your ass [?]
n*ggas tryna copy me, and i know just why
i [?] i ain’t here to tell no lies
[?] n*gga, i still bust that [?]
all on camera with it, you finna see another opp die
i know you heard of [?] when cj died
i’m on some 4l sh*t, my favorite glock a [?]
he got a bag on his top, well i got money in my eyes
they lost they top shotta, now they wanna act so surprised
shh, now that’s enough of that
i was bullying in middle school, turning n*ggas to punching bags
sh*t, i’m just like big worm, i’m asking where my money at?
he ain’t [?] put his head in a toilet, flush his ass
at [?] house, i had to go to see [?]
by the time i dropped out, i was thinking ’bout being me
kicking your door in, and taking out your flat screen
a straight [?] n*ggas on that money machine
that’s that old me, n*gga, that my old days
but now i’m sipping red, my stomach fat, my pockets paid
don’t let this sh*t fool you, i’ll still strip you like oj
don’t pull up on the side of this cat, you gon’ get sprayed
i paid 200 for my licance, i got road rage
i’m throwing bullits now, n*gga, i don’t throw fades
[verse 2: 21 savage]
we give out smoke, we don’t argue
yeah
jump up out that van and hit my target
switch flame his ass up, charge me with arsin
atch a opp, shoot his ass [?]
everytime your ho be coming around, she got no panties on
i can’t go to sleep around no ho who got no camera phone
he was talking all that ra ra sh*t, we caught his ass alone
pulled the shysty down, and i get active [?] these cameras on
buddy ass a rat, he ran his mouth, he got his [?]
d*mn that lil sh*t fat, it’s poking like she got a pamper on
sh*t bag a n*gga ass, now he got a pamper on
b*tch, f*ck your additude, you always got a tantrom on
pistol whip him, leave him in the bando, now he shaking
we leave all the beef fried crispy like it’s baken
say you smoking who? what type of drugs this n*gga taking?
dreads in my face, he got popped by jamaican
come around bragging ’bout your murders, you a agent
i turn all the opps into trauma unit pationts
when i close my eyes, i see all type of faces
you can’t run, p*ssy, come here, b*tch, this ain’t the matrix
smoke [?], smoke [?]
smoke on [?], smoke on [?]
your daddy was a b*tch, you couldn’t be nothing but a ho
gave her ass a nick, bet she come back with that load
rolling up the last one, buddy dirty, call him dro
all they hit is windows, man, them n*ggas never score
i ain’t gotta tell them, if i’m angry, they gon’ go
and they ain’t coming back, until they leave some on the floor
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