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lirik lagu lil wop – silence

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[intro]
yeah
uh, yeah, uh, yeah
b-tch, uh, yeah, uh
yeah, uh (ayy)

[verse]
all of this gucci, they think i’m italian
i get the drip ’fore it’s out like a stylist
vvs h-ttin’ all in my medallion
i blew a kiss to your b-tch, now she smilin’
don’t do no talkin’, i’m movin’ in silence
mac got a suppressor, i shoot you in silence
just hit me a stain, i got blood on my diamonds
yo’ b-tch gon’ do just what i say like i’m simon
f-ck on yo’ ho and i go back to grindin’
i stay on point, i stay sharp like a lining
blitz in yo’ trap, rush your sh-t like a lineman
don’t give the guap, i’ma k!ll you and find it
i hang with gangsta, we mob like italians
we all gotta eat, so these bodies keep pilin’
we up like the moon, in the night we be howlin’
i just hit a lick and i flew to the islands (ayy)
i see dead people, i count ’em in my sleep (in my sleep, dead)
why yo’ b-tch be stalkin’ me? that b-tch a creep (b-tch a creep)
i called the b-tch to drive the benz ’cause i was geeked (i was too geeked)
that b-tch sucked my d-ck ’til i couldn’t feel my feet
hit one b-tton on the car and it go beep (it go beep)
i blew off the top, it’s blood all on the seats
i just popped a percocet and i ain’t eat (nah)
i just drank a pint of blood to go to sleep
my car just flew to the future and came back (it came back)
i just saw the future me and i had racks (had racks)
f-cked on yo’ b-tch, don’t want that ho ’cause she a nat
my b-tch a bougee hoodrat, stay up in the trap (ayy)

[chorus]
rubber band, rubber band, rubber band, rubber band
rubber band, rubber band, rubber band (racks)
too many bands, can’t count in one hand
so i gotta count up with the other hand (yeah)
glock on the left, but i shoot with the right
bust yo’ head and get shot with the other hand
countin’ these racks, i just run up the sack
young n-gg- done ran out of rubber bands (racks)
rubber band, rubber band, rubber band, rubber band
rubber band, rubber band, rubber band (all this guap)
too many bands, can’t count in one hand
so i gotta count up with the other hand
glock on the left, but i shoot with the right
bust yo’ head and get shot with the other hand
countin’ these racks, i just run up the sack
young n-gg- done ran out of rubber bands (racks, ayy)