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lirik lagu 14 underground – tata

[verse 1: tata & jenn carter]
how you dissin’? like four of yo’ homies is dead
i send one of my n*ggas k!ll all of y’all n*ggas
i see a opp then i see red
with this pencil, fill ’em up with lead
bend through the opps i’m tryna catch ’em—
(24 is the goat)
how you smokin’ my dead and i don’t got no dead
they know my bop, mr. everything dead
she wanna come over i left her on read
n*ggas p*ssy
i’m a veteran, n*ggas is rookies
big knocker, can’t book me
walk in the party and i got them lookin’
n*ggas be runnin’ they mouth on the media
i run into n*ggas, yeah, it’s lit
b*tches be gettin’ ahead of they self
i don’t care if you pretty, suck my d*ck, glah
let me start like this
said you n*ggas is weird and your opps is your friends
how your boyfriend a—, but he ask for a feature
he tried to diss, but he makin’ amends
i’ma set sh*t straight, said he 41k, he get sent to the gates
straight to the top, not a debate
they like, ”jenn you so lyrical, n*ggas is late”, like
we gon’ tear that boy like i’m a surgeon
shorty a baddie, she tell me, ”it’s hurtin”’
and this music is more than just verses
i’m really on timin’, i do it on purpose
n*ggas talkin’, but that sh*t is digital
f*ck with the opps and i can’t be a friend of you
n*ggas dirty and they not original
feel like i’m spike, when i’m shootin’, i’m visual
bullet’s gon’ make him invisible
don’t need a diss, but you fit the subliminal
brodie a demon, a criminal
sendin’ out shots and this sh*t is not clinical
[verse 2: lil worm & kyle richh]
i could never go beef wit’ a rat (like, what?)
oh, you talkin’ ’bout bro? you get clapped
b*tch, i’m a demon, i move wit’ a tec
n*gga notti got k!lled, now his ass in a pack (notti)
dd said, “notti, throw, throw, throw” (what?)
how you walkin’ without totin’ pole?
he was talkin’ on bro, bro, bro
now his dumbass on scene, he got poked (ah)
like, b*tch i ain’t regular, n*gga (like, what?)
finger itchin’ to pull on the trigger (what? what?)
they be like, “worm, you a different lil’ n*gga” (i’m a different—)
i could never get poked in my liver (like)
if it’s lit, i’ma slide (slide)
send a hit, then you know i’m outside (like, what?)
hop out, throwin’ shots, don’t die
you talkin’ ’bout naz, but yo’ brother in the sky, like (like)
they be thinkin’ this sh*t is a game (is a game)
n*gga died, now his brother got fame
notti boppin, punchin’ my hips (notti, like, what, like, what?)
like, come here, gotta do it like this (d*mn*d*mn*d*mn)
don’t—don’t drop my sh*t (notti), d*mn, he tried to dip but he tripped (notti)
beef ain’t dead ’til he dead in my spliff (notti), ’til he dead in my—(notti)
told bro, “let’s take a trip” (like, what?), backdoor gang, tryna slime me a victim (like, d*mn)
not—notti boppin, i’m punchin’ my hips (notti)
like, come here gotta do it like this, like (do it like this)
bop, bop (bop*bop*bop), he dead, roll it again (like, d*mn)
f*ck oy, we smokin’ they mans (ogzk)
like, how they dissin’? they mans got tanned (mans got tanned)
[verse 3: jerry west & fmb savo]
i’ve been itchin’ to pull out the sitch
ak a demon, i know he gon’ blitz
swear everything dead, watch him lift
spin it again if the first hollows miss
and these n*ggas don’t know what i do
politicians, only there for the news
but a n*gga got nothin’ to lose
put up ya mans, i got somethin’ to prove
look, if jerry spot ’em, he gon run (what?)
jenn keep cl!ckin’, roll him for the lung (grrah*grrah)
kr always dumpin’ ’til it’s done
dee on point, shooter number one (grrah*grrah, boom, n*gga)
when i cl!ck, brodie told me to chill
i will not stop ’til i reach me a mill’
reload my gun when it’s time for the drill (grrah*grrah)
then i aim your top for the k!ll (grrah*grrah)
shots to the head, call that boy little bill
brady the clip ’cause i shoot from the field
reload my gun when it’s time for the drill (grrah*grrah*grrah)
dotty a dummy, he died from a pill
ebk, i don’t care how you feel
keep a beam on the scope, never duck
ace dotty dead ’cause he ran out of luck (grrah*grrah)
f*f*f*ck a flexo, i’m turnin’ sh*t up
middleton bl!ck on my hip, never run
i just dump ’til he dead on the floor
reload my bullets with christian dior (christian dior)
when i shoot i don’t use double hands
free all my n*ggas that’s stuck in the can (free all my n*ggas)
don’t run, i got smoke in the air
pass me the l, when i smoke it don’t clear (shh)
i’m a demon, not livin’ in fear
that n*gga got shot and got left in that chair (grrah*grrah*grrah)
shoot at four quarters, i’m makin’ it square (what?)
f*ckin’ his b*tch and i don’t really care (grrah*grrah, what?)
twenty*four shots when i’m lettin’ it flare

- tata

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