Скачать или смотреть Billacheck - Triple Frontier (Lyrics)

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LYRICS:
Ain't nothin' changed but the chains, shit, I'm taking his name off the hit list
Know my hitter shoot, he won't miss, I'm cleanin' shit up like a dish
Step back a nigga and switch, Chrome Heart Ricks in the fit

I'm sippin' on tris in the Benz, AMG Glock, my twin
It's Amiri shit in my skin, wanna know how I been, I been chasin' the M
I keep tryin' to tell 'em I ain't one of them
But I guess they ain't hearin' me loud and clear
Bustdown rollie like chandelier

When I blew through a hunnid, I ain't shed no tear
6.1 when I'm switchin' gears
Car so loud, I might fuck up your ears
We turnin' out rollies as souvenirs
I got racks on the wall like Trip Fontiere
I'm in Beverly Hills completin' the drill

I'm drillin' in Ricks when I pop me a pill
I was drinkin' the cup, it ain't give me a thrill
These niggas be cap, graduated from Yale
Got 'em boppin' my shit from the streets to the cell
They gotta give me a milli only time I would tell
Still takin' these losses just tryna prevail
You know 'za is the smoke, it's what I inhale
And how my niggas you can send it through Zelle

I love all the violence and keepin' it player
My two feet move, I pull up like the mayor
My name gettin' big, 'bout the size of an acre
This shit gettin' major

When it's time to walk down, they turn to a stranger
The way that they ride, you would think they in lasers
Got a stick in my pants, poke 'em like navels
Took a risk to get here, so I gotta stay grateful
They crossin' up niggas, they breakin' their ankles
Went up on the T, my body felt painful
You know my bitch got a get all the angles

I'll Perc' it and dose it to release my anger
Your bitch get with us and it's too late to save her
Having bags on the law, got all kind of flavor
Shippin' some racks out the bank, had to sign me a waiver

Ain't nothin' changed but the chains, shit, I'm taking his name off the hit list
Know my hitter shoot, he won't miss, I'm cleanin' shit up like a dish
Step back a nigga and switch, Chrome Heart Ricks in the fit
I'm sippin' on tris in the Benz, AMG Glock, my twin
This game ain’t shit in my skin, wanna know how I been
I been chasin' the M

I keep tryin' to tell 'em I ain't one of them
But I guess they ain't hearin' me loud and clear
Bustdown rollie like chandelier, when I blew through a hunnid
I ain't shed no tear
6.1 when I'm switchin' gears
Car so loud, I might fuck up your ears
We turnin' out rollies as souvenirs
I got racks on the wall like Trip Fontiere


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