Paraphernalia (feat. Torro)

CallMeShotti

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CallMeShotti


3:52

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Ah
Ah
My dog a shooter, I can't get his ass to chill
So I just tell him keep his head up in that wheel
And shoot for 30 on them drills
Traumatized by them times in the field
Was doing pad drills
Brodie hit a head every drill
They say he mad skilled
Yeah, he got mad skills
Yeah, he got mad kills
Fighting for his soul
Popping perkies like they Advils
Like they Advils
All we know is death, death to the opps
Never had a ref but them techs never stopped
I can't tell if this bitch wanting sex or a drop
Beams on the FNs, and switches on the Glocks
All we know is death, death to the opps
Never had a ref but them techs never stopped
I can't tell if this bitch wanting sex or a drop
Beams on the FNs, and switches on the Glocks
Beams on the FNs, and switches on the Glocks, Ugh
Ahh, it's a cold city
Paraphernalia on my side like it's sewn in me
Know they wanna see me die like the old fifty
And I can't let these niggas cheat me out my spot
Yeah that bitch a dime but I treat her like she not
Yeah this shit a nine but it keep like thirty shots
These titties double D but I don't keep them in the bra
Bitch I keep them in the Glock
We spinning every day
We caught em on that corner, bullets hit from every way
Yeah, bullets hit from every way
I call lil Brodie, Kevin, he put seven in your face
Yeah
Ahh
My dog a shooter, I can't get his ass to chill
So I just tell him keep his head up in that wheel
And shoot for thirty on them drills, yeah
Beams on the FNs
My shooter beat a body, Said he tryna catch a second
The ruger getting sloppy, I might swap it for a Smith & Wesson
A lethal weapon
I'm riding around niggas section, ain't no one present
Wrap a nigga up, we been sending them straight to heaven
A thug like Makaveli
I'm tryna hit a nigga taco, have him leaking relish
The devil keep on tryna take me, got me speaking hellish
I tell the feds, ain't hear a thing and I ain't see a motherfucker, Helen Keller
This little bitch fiending, she'll buy whatever you sell her
And I can't trust a nigga, believe whatever you tell him
Cause he'll be the one telling, yeah, he'll be the one to tell it
All we know is death, death to the opps
Never had a ref but them techs never stopped
I can't tell if this bitch wanting sex or a drop
Beams on the FNs, and switches on the Glocks
Beams on the FNs, and switches on the Glocks, Ugh
Ahh, it's a cold city
Paraphernalia on my side like it's sewn in me
Know they wanna see me die like the old fifty
Homie hit me with a game plan, I'm like what's the mission
Niggas bitchin', knowing that we prone to get shit missing
Keep a nine on me just in case I feel any tension
I keep mine on me cause I might just leave some shit twitching
I play by the rules, bitches, I play by the group
Only in the coupe, so they lap it up since I'm the troop
Cuban link just like a noose, in the war, it ain't no truce
Ain't hitting niggas in they body, hope that ski-z bulletproof
They booked Brodie for a body, know he gone and told his dukes
Booked Brody for so long, he won't be home till 7-2
Lately I been on them beans, lately I been on them blues
I'm tryna get my weight up, my cake up like bakers do
Niggas can't face us, we Lakers, we come to hoop
Ain't no chasing cause they follow us and do say what we do
Call us makers cause this shit we making incredible
Hit his face up like it was makeup, he never knew
Ah, and this shit won't stop
Nigga keep capping, we gon' hit him in his top
Nigga keep flagging, it ain't white, then we won't stop
All this shit that I be packing, it'll make a nigga drop
All the shit that I be tagging, they remember, it's a lot
Putting belt to ass, whooping shit just like a lot
How you saying f*ck 12 when you know that you the cops
All these drugs, paraphernalia, I see lights and I won't stop
All we know is death, death to the opps
Never had a ref but them techs never stopped
I can't tell if this bitch wanting sex or a drop
Beams on the FNs, and switches on the Glocks
Beams on the FNs, and switches on the Glocks, Ugh
Ahh, it's a cold city
Paraphernalia on my side like it's sewn in me
Know they wanna see me die like the old fifty
Ah
Ahh, ah
My dog a shooter, I can't get his ass to chill
So I just tell him keep his head up in that wheel
And shoot for 30 on them drills
Ahh, ah
Ahh, ah
Ahh, ah

 The easy, fast & fun way to learn how to sing: 30DaySinger.com

Written by: Nazahn Warren

Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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