Blaze Ya Dead Homie - They Call That Gangsta Lyrics | FAST DOWNLOAD

They Call That Gangsta

[Verse 1: Blaze]
Top down, bitches drop down to their knees
When they're in the midst of some real G's
Real G shit - AK's with banana clips
Bring out the inner gorilla you son of a bitch
I'mma take a big hit, hold it in, let it go
Inhale, exhale, only marijuana smoke
No joke, man I ain't even laughing
Ain't no time to argue, squeeze a trigger and let the gun blast
All my hitters and bitches and real killers and drug dealers
I hold it down for you cause I be a vandetta in G flag
Of what color
Bitch you look at me sideways I cut your eye out with a box cutter
See me dog no collar, no chain
And my bark and bite are equal so they one and the same
I ain't new to the game so don't play a punk with me
Grab your toilet paper cause I turn your whole life shitty

[Hook: (The R.O.C.) & Blaze]
(They call that gangsta)
What I'm doing, who I be
Ain't nobody dead or alive even fucking with me
Born in the back of a lowrider with hydraulics and spokes
And them low pro tires
Baptizin' 40’s behind the liquor store
With my young G’s, so we dreamin of gettin more [?]

[Verse 2: The R.O.C.]
That's what you call gangsta, y'all RuPauls
No balls when we check of your shit you guys are too small
We move off in the direction, with less stress and more sexin'
From the section, that means your woman are now our lesson
Me and Blaze don't check, they want 'em down
Collect what it gotta be in our circle of this shit
No sweatin', these suckas know all occasion
Cause punks they get their hatin'
We sprayin' at the sweater
We got a Satan at gun point already
Let it rain confetii, if you dead and gone that's savvy
We skeet off in them pirellis
Them boys were never jelly
We shoot it out, get burried
I'm mashin', pumping out in my box chevy like who's ready?
My belly always stuffed with chumps - I eat em up
With their luck so what, we're never help you ain't born tough
Note to self, you see me head down, let's talk
I'm beating my chest, I'm worldwide you can't get enough


[Verse 3: Lex The Hex Master]
Too many wankstas ? and prankstas
Not enough gangstas, gun butters and shankstas
Tell me what you bang for, I'm pulsin' these niggas anger
These fists cuffed tangler the Queens County Strangler
Lex the Hex Master, trenching the necks bastard
Claiming he drops classics, smack 'em back to Jurassic
Practicin' black magic while makin' factory caskets
I'll leave gash, stickin' and movin' just call me Cassius
We're not affiliated, packin' heavy radiator
Sorry, real G's don't find skinny jeans intimidating
All initiated cowards get asphyxiated
Flow's sophisticated so Lex is highly anticipated
Faith tainted, my face painted, I must be sick
Maintained to stay faded to fuck a bitch
And by that time next year they y'all know me
Hex the Master, The R.O.C. and Blaze ya Dead Homie


Date Added: 2017-08-21
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