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Quinton Armani Gardner (born May 10, 1996), professionally known as Pressa, is a rapper and singer from Toronto. more »

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(Fursace) yeah

Why tell me to go when you
Know you gon' miss me?
Like, who goin' with you when
You going through it?
I cannot tote the nine 'less it hold sixteen
Shots hit his chest and
It's hotter than whiskey
I sip this drank, fade away like Nowitzki
I'm off a Perc', she can't get a quickie
And it's icy, so this Glock got a switchy
I ain't never slip when I be in the city
It's a lot of opps, you know I got many
If you talkin' racks, you know I got plenty
I be talking to God, hope that he hear me
I know that these Perkies
They ain't gon heal me
'Fore you reach for my wrists
You gon' have to kill me
I come from the trenches, baby
That's the real me
Yeah, you ain't gotta f*ck with me
But you gotta feel me

Smokin dead men, got me lookin like Killy
Dirt bikes on the block like we in Philly
If I don't got a switch, finger f*ck the semi
Gotta keep the tool case it come in handy
Won't let a bitch line me up like Andy's
That nigga only stepping when he off Xannies
Crodie in the 'Cat swingin', that's a random
We swing your block, somethin' like a hammock
When we pull up, they panic
In the Maybach, the view panoramic
Flip every K-47, I say that in every song
They real and my real ain't the same
That's the reason we don't get along
We pop up with fullies, 'fore
You hear the frrt, better run
I'm on the block, I tote my ratchet
I'm off the drugs, yeah, I got bad habit's
I love to f*ck up these racks on fashion
'Cause I remember when I never had 'em
I feel like none of this shit even matter
If I'm don't got the cro
'nem right here with me
We knockin' doors down just like Pimp C
Might cop that blue face, long live Nipsey

Why tell me to go when you
Know you gon' miss me?
Like, who goin' with you when
You going through it?
I cannot tote the nine 'less it hold sixteen
Shots hit his chest and
It's hotter than whiskey
I sip this drank, fade away like Nowitzki
I'm off a Perc', she can't get a quickie
And it's icy, so this Glock got a switchy
I ain't never slip when I be in the city
It's a lot of opps, you know I got many
If you talkin' racks, you know I got plenty
I be talking to God, hope that he hear me
I know that these Perkies
They ain't gon heal me
'Fore you reach for my wrists
You gon' have to kill me
I come from the trenches, baby
That's the real me
Yeah, you ain't gotta f*ck with me
But you gotta feel me

I come from the trenches, baby
That's the real me
Used to rock Zara, now I rock Amiri
Used to rock G-Shock, now I got a Rolly
Since I'm gettin' money, everybody know me
'Fore you say that you got it
You gotta show me
Tre pound glizz, nah, this ain't a forty
My first foreign car, yeah, it was a stoley
Still remember funny times 'fore we had money
Gettin' more racks than his big homie
Ridin' 'round the city, I'm never lonely
I got that bag on me and she know it
Walk inside every room like we own it
Feel different when you get it out the mud
Don't it? Yeah, feel different when you get
It out the mud, don't it?
Weathered the storm, now a nigga wrist frozen

Why tell me to go when you
Know you gon' miss me?
Like, who goin' with you when
You going through it?
I cannot tote the nine 'less it hold sixteen
Shots hit his chest and
It's hotter than whiskey
I sip this drank, fade away like Nowitzki
I'm off a Perc', she can't get a quickie
And it's icy, so this Glock got a switchy
I ain't never slip when I be in the city
It's a lot of opps, you know I got many
If you talkin' racks, you know I got plenty
I be talking to God, hope that he hear me
I know that these Perkies
They ain't gon heal me
'Fore you reach for my wrists
You gon' have to kill me
I come from the trenches, baby
That's the real me
Yeah, you ain't gotta f*ck with me
But you gotta feel me

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