lirik lagu big azrael - dead end streets
[intro: big azrael]
(tahj money)
(dy krazy)
yeah, yeah (brrt, baow, baow)
[verse 1: big azrael]
draco got a drum, finna make a n~gga dance
hollow tips rip through his chest, left his ass in his stance
caught that boy lackin’, had to turn him to a strand
opps talk tough, but they ain’t never throw no hands (nah)
spin the block, double back, let the switch talk (brrt)
.40 hit his brain, now his thoughts outlined in chalk
n~ggas cappin’ in they raps, man, that sh~t be all talk
tryna run, caught him slippin’, now his body outlined in chalk
f~ck the other side, we still smokin’ on they bros
glock got a temper, one fl!ck and it explode
tried to hide in that whip, but the windows ain’t closed
hit the gas, left the scene, took that b~tch off the road
they say the feds watchin’, well, f~ck it, we masked up
heard his ass was tough, now his soul got sn~tched up
too deep in this sh~t, man, it ain’t no back up
big chop, headshot, made his ass back up
got a beam on the pole, ain’t no missin’ when i shoot
opp n~gga talkin’ crazy, now his face up on the news
caught his b~tch ass lackin’, put a hole through his goose
had to leave him where he stood, now he buried in his boots
[verse 2: pgf nuk]
(brrah), whole gang strapped, we ain’t lackin’ in this b~tch (nah)
glock with the switch, let it rip, watch it glitch (brrt)
caught him by the store, put his ass in a ditch
paramedics tryna save him, but his soul already dipped
we ain’t playin’ laser tag, but this beam hit his chest
opps keep talkin’, tell ’em put it to the test
hit him in the back, made that boy take a rest
now his homies lightin’ candles, shoulda had on a vest
f~ck a drive~by, we hop out and get to blastin’
hollow tips hit his spine, made him do a backspin
talkin’ like he gangsta, now his mama out here crashin’
closed casket funeral, his face got to smashin’
n~ggas know my name, b~tch, i’m known for the violence
30 in the clip, i ain’t worried ’bout no fightin’
pull up broad day, got the city hearin’ sirens
now his whole gang screamin’, but they ain’t doin’ no slidin’
free the real k!llers, all my shooters in the pen
tried to flex for the ‘gram, now his ass in the wind
we ain’t squashin’ sh~t, b~tch, it’s war ’til the end
you ain’t tryna k!ll, p~ssy n~gga, don’t pretend
[outro: big azrael]
f~ck them n~ggas, yeah, we back up on that block (baow, baow)
30 on my hip, leave a f~ckboy shot (brrt)
red dot, headshot, put his ass in a box
dead end streets, ain’t no way to make it out (nah)
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