lirik lagu jmattson - hittem where it hurts
[verse 1: jmattson]
b~tch i’m ridin’ with the mothaf~ckin bowie in the glovebox
hittem where it hurts sn~tch your soul & watch the blood drop
eyes red, face blank, faded in my mugshot
whippin’ while i’m smokin’ while you posted at the bus stop
f~ck cops
hhm b~tch we a mothaf~ckin must watch
as a youngin kept a quarter in my lunchbox
only runnin’ from the sound of pigs & gunshots
b~tch f~ck off
i don’t wanna have to listen to these bitin’ b~tches
everybody studying us tellem mind they business
mothaf~ckas corny with this sh~t and ion get it
every lil f~ckin thing they doin i done did it
like a minute ago
better get ur hoe before she hop up in the backseat
i never murdered but you shouldn’t put it past me
better get that dough and hand it over need it last week
heard they talkin’ but they never wanna @ me
[verse 2: sxmpra]
yung sxmpra never settle
when i get up on the mic it’s on
when a p~ssy mothaf~cka barkin never bitin they gone
when i creep up out the catacombs you know i’m comin back strong
wanna beat the beast but i keep the peace until i keep it too long
yuh
murder on da beat
i don’t really wanna be seen
but i gotta be me
all black beanie
with da jeans
imma scheme
on a team
better know what i mean like
it’s schema da posse
with the h~ll hound militia
we keep it k!lla
you feel it
and all these f~ckas vanilla
all these little rappers get up in they f~ckin feelings tell em get up out my face if this is you that i’m hearing i’m tryna
move on up
i wanna sit at the top
and i got no time for mothaf~ckas that be talkin a lot
what
imma keep on spittin till i get my f~ckin pesos
lay low
schemin like a demon to the grave hoe
p~ssy mothaf~ckas gonna wanna see me fail but i keep on f~ckin k!llin it till i’m old and f~ckin frail
[verse 3: mvko]
motha f~ckas hate me cuz their girlfriends wanna f~ck me
heart filled up with poison lead is pumpin through my bloodstream
talk that sh~t behind a desktop that sh~t doesn’t bug me
keep that energy in person cuz i’ll make a p~ssy bleed
knife didn’t work you gon need a gun to quiet me
creepin in the bushes round your house i do it silently
never trust a soul or a hoe cuz they trifling
mad because you ain’t me and im everything you try to be
blunt lit, wrist slit, flat tires on the chevy while i’m rollin with a thick b~tch
10 sticks and drums clips, if i pull up on your block you better f~ckin run b~tch
keep running your mouth ill be tearing out your tongue b~tch
you ain’t bout sh~t so i’ll call you eric king
talk tough and i’ll pull up and put a hatchet in your knees
pull the burner from my waste band and send a bullet through your t~~th
send your ass to h~ll i promise no one gonna grieve
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