2009

Stim

Lyrics:

Gang, gang
Yeah, my nigga Taz (My nigga Taz)
Play with us we gone leave you in the past (In the past)
Yeah sitting back in my chair and count my racks nigga (Count my racks nigga)

Yeah sitting up at that top you know we top notch (We on top)
Yeah with my niggas in the field we playing hop scotch (Yeah)
Yeah the whole team been getting guap while we dodge cops (Yeah, what the fuck)
Ice in my wrist, neck froze like we punch clocks (Brr)
Yeah caught you lacking we don’t talk we just punch opps
Yeah we eating good everyday like out that lunch box (Damn)
Glock to his head, hit him down now his heart stop (Stop)
Finna curb a nigga, swerve back and pull up in my park spot (Park spot)
Yeah you know your hoe for the streets and she got mileage (She a bop)
Yeah we really out here trapping in the streets and they gone top file it 
My nigga hit your head straight dog nigga Rottweiling 
Yeah that nigga tryna compete with the gang we gone top notch it (Damn)

Yeah fighting them demons cause' they messing with my head nigga (With my head)
Yeah tote glocks pull up in your hood we leave you dead in it (Leave you dead)
Yeah, ain’t no talk we just up, let it spread nigga (Boah, boah, boah)
Yeah, got all this pain I been sipping on this med nigga (On this med)
Yeah, we don’t play, we get active till he dead nigga (What the fuck)
Yeah, I got a chop, leave a opp where he bled nigga
Yeah, I’m chasing guap I ain’t worried ab what he said nigga (Hell naw)
Write that nigga off like a book with my lead nigga (In my book)
Know I’m the king of the streets and they can’t check me (They can't check)
Yeah, we hit your top take your chain and your neck piece (Hit your top)
Yeah, bust shots at your gang, hit your bestie (Yeah hit your boy)
Yeah, all these hoes at my show rocking out we at Coachella (Damn, what the fuck)
Yeah too much guap up in my pockets need a duffle (Yeah, I got too much guap)
That nigga barking like a dog, finna give that boy a muzzle (Give that boy a muzzle)
Going 160 on the road, yeah I need to buckle (Swerve in that coup)
Yeah we caught you by surprise now we coming out that tunnel (On gang)

Yeah sitting up at that top you know we top notch (We on top)
Yeah with my niggas in the field we playing hop scotch (Yeah)
Yeah the whole team been getting guap while we dodge cops (Yeah what the fuck)
Ice in my wrist, neck froze like we punch clocks (Brr)
Yeah caught you lacking we don’t talk we just punch opps
Yeah we eating good everyday like out that lunch box (Damn)
Glock to his head hit him down now his heart stop (Stop)
Finna curb a nigga, swerve back and pull up in my park spot (Park spot)
Yeah you know your hoe for the streets and she got mileage (She a bop)
Yeah we really out here trapping in the streets and they gone top file it 
My nigga hit your head straight dog, nigga Rottweiling 
Yeah that nigga tryna compete with the gang we gone top notch it (Damn)

Top Notch

Kyrie

Related tracks