Lyrics:
OPP (Yeah you know me) [Repeat: x3]
Who's down with OPP (All the homies)
As for the ladies, OPP means something gifted
The first two letters are
no more
Get the door and don't let it hit you
Where you were split by the good Lord
Done picked number three World War
Yah that living room floor
Is
For the god of hip hop to come from the clouds
Starting a war zone
All on my own
If they thought I wouldn't shoot em down get the crossbow
And if I said
bitch put her head down? Man
She talk for hours
Am I a hypebeast for the Yeezy and Supreme?
Can't believe you cuffed girl
She was easiest to me
I'm
a possibility
250 6'3 but I'm lil king
Kickin down your door red dot with a laser beam
Empty out the clip light him up like a Christmas Tree
Click clack boom lil
You already know it's M three in this bitch
Vybez
I have a hundred missed calls, I made to heaven
It took me a while to get the message
I was living
then)
All of my niggas are savages
Have you dead by the weekend nigga
I'm tatting up all of my sleeves
Memories hit and I run to the weed
My cousin
down and Im back again
Its time for a take over
Make over for all the gate holders
Mo money than a slave owner
Wake up they got a hang over
Got to be
Nigga nigga I'ma rida
Ride with G's
And ship keys over seas by the three's
Keep an eye on my enemies
Snoop and Silkk
In da back of the Lac
With that
with your effort locker
So we buck up I'm gonna block her
Your daddy will have to ask for a docket
That's true
Youngin in the streets tryna move a brick
breathing
You can shoot me down but you will never kill my spirit
I still got my ancestors with me
But tell me why
Do I have to die so you can see that my
position
Once we walk through they door
Fuck they graphs
They have charts
For all of our laughs
Can they explain, how at two years old
You read full
for this
I swear I get it off the love
Louisiana nigga you can tell
By my mothafuckin' grammar
I swear I got 3 hoes with
Me just like I'm Santa
These
stamp on the Sunshine
I swear to God I have money, cars
And 3 different hoes at one time
I’m piled up like door sale
You throwback like Nextel
I could
you’ve been playing on my mind
and I do believe it’s time we got serious
HOUSE FOR SALE
(Peter Sando)
Down at the end of Sycamore Lane
there’s a three
that knock on your door
You open up, you see a whore wit the glock to your jaw
See mysonne is the one that hit the blocks wit the raw
For his money,
and Satan's fallin' out
Encourage the liquor for those who ain't here that you pourin' out
On 3-way, your parents, preacher and spouse called my house
Revive
what I'm known for
Skinny jeans, I don't do those
I'm the start us up part or the shoot for
Fully automatic chopper, you could shoot though
Now I'm
ain't backing down for nothing
I'ma back em down like Shaq with this black 2-2-3 in my hand
Better pray that this chopper jam like a radio single, man
of the carousel
A black parade of circus freaks, and led by Mister Dark,
Scours every street for the boys to drag them down to hell
The boys have seen too much
darkened door he knew the Lord was not coming today.For the hours of Christmas had passed away So he went to his room and knelt down to pray And he said
a whore
Oh, trick or treat
I'm on elm street
I'm the one people have nightmares for
Trick or treat
I'm down elm street
Going door to door
I'm dressed
that slime, oh
I seen the blues, know you in tune, but how we knock 'em down like dominos
Dope by Luciano, we pull on side, shoot up the car though
head for I kept my word.
Three times my shadow crossed your floor
And three times I came to your lowly door.
I was the beggar with bruised, cold
Discuss these have something to shoot for interview by 3 doors down Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In