lirik lagu pressure – young scooter & zaytoven
[intro: young scooter]
zaytoven
yeah, haha
yeah, street sh*t
yeah, no party music, n*gga
yeah, we don’t do that
[chorus: young scooter]
real talk, what you gon’ do when the pressure on?
all snitch n*ggas get blown down like saxophones
two*thousand*twenty, i ain’t talkin’ on no cellphone (no cap)
you know them feds listenin’, it’s tapped, you dead wrong (yeah)
phone conversations get you thirty years (thirty years)
i ain’t talkin’ on the phone for a whole year (yeah)
you know where the spot at, you can meet me there
and you can’t trust heavy n*ggas, they wear wires, yeah
[verse 1: young scooter]
he got a wire on, i don’t trust shawty
i’m ’bout to trick him to the spot, let st**zy bust shawty
i got a plug in the bay, i call him e*40
hit a n*gga long range with the glock 40
snitchin’ at an all*time high now
n*ggas tellin’ everything to cut they time down
salute my right hand partner [?], he stayed down
and if i ever go broke or get laid down
every time a n*gga snitch, we call ’em tekashi
you can’t trust these dirty feds, i know they watchin’
put pressure on these n*ggas when them bodies droppin’
how he tell on you? i thought that was your partner
street
[chorus: young scooter & young dolph]
real talk, what you gon’ do when the pressure on?
all snitch n*ggas get blown down like saxophones
two*thousand*twenty, i ain’t talkin’ on no cellphone (no cap)
you know them feds listenin’, it’s tapped, you dead wrong (yeah)
phone conversations get you thirty years (thirty years)
i ain’t talkin’ on the phone for a whole year (yeah)
you know where the spot at, you can meet me there
and you can’t trust heavy n*ggas, they wear wires, yeah (yeah, yeah)
[verse 2: young dolph]
n*ggas sing like bryson tiller when that pressure on (p*ssy)
yellow lamborghini with a bad yellow bone (bad)
swear to god i had a shoebox with twenty prepaid phones (throw away)
swear to god, he owed me money, we showed up at his home (let me get that)
that n*gga went to jail and he didn’t make bail (d*mn)
and he swear he didn’t tell, but i can’t tell (d*mn)
bags of pressure, residue under my fingernails (ooh)
two cali b*tches sittin’ in the back, call them my city girls (uh)
og plug in the hood, but he turned to a rat (ha)
lost all his respect in the hood and he can’t get it back (f*ck ’em)
did a drive*by in a grey acura, next day, paint it black (ooh)
cut throat n*gga, i don’t know how to stab in the back (yeah, yeah)
[chorus: young scooter]
real talk, what you gon’ do when the pressure on?
all snitch n*ggas get blown down like saxophones
two*thousand*twenty, i ain’t talkin’ on no cellphone (no cap)
you know them feds listenin’, it’s tapped, you dead wrong (yeah)
phone conversations get you thirty years (thirty years)
i ain’t talkin’ on the phone for a whole year (yeah)
you know where the spot at, you can meet me there
and you can’t trust heavy n*ggas, they wear wires, yeah
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