lirik lagu young chris – dead homies
uh, official lord n-gg- tilly
official lord n-gg- tilly
official lord n-gg- tilly, one to the districts
drops you n-gg-s on the neck, and now i’m back in the streets,
n-gg- play the hit, they got a high cl-ss freak! (x2)
a1 if i need to show her how to shoot the metal
when she moving through the kettle.
had to take them with the shovel,
leave them under with the devil
on my new philly… knew a hustler never settle.
hitting every target, keep riding, n-gg- pedal
hit them rock, hit them slop, hit the chops on my level
duffle bag to the shooter, spin the …
show them how a n-gg- moving, if a n-gg- gets to shoot in.
i put this on lame, motherf-cker, we ain’t losing!
it’s my automatic…. hit them hard, hit them low
show them how to sh-t the dough,
n-gg- trying to get the dough
i’m a product of the street with some writers with the heat
lay back, smoke my weed… on the beat!
motherf-ckers!
hook: (x2)
man, i put that on the dead homies
all i know is get that bread, homie
got a pocket full of dead homies
(let’s get them!)
and i’mma get them to til dead homies!
gun shots in the morning i wake up to the sound,
i quickly grab my hammer, b-tch tell me, ‘calm down!’
if they’re talking beef, i quickly swerve them like a butler
i’m riding through the city like i own this motherf-cker!
they hate the way i roll, but these n-gg-s can’t stop it
stash cracked opened, got this hammer i’m popping.
son asked me, ‘daddy, why are you riding with that gun?’
i’m like,’ these n-gg- hating trying to kill a n-gg- son,
but you’re protected, aren’t you?
watch me kill them in a second!’
homie turned snitch, so i guess it was a lesson.
a cold blunt, so i guess this rich feared his ending.
he turned 14, i bet my son will get his bentley.
my daughter get that ashton, b-tch get thee rolex
the homie’s panemeras, and my momma get the glow.
the rollie full of ice, so i guess time froze
at the dinner’s in 8 months, so no feelings are exposed.
dead homies!
hook: (x2)
man, i put that on the dead homies
all i know is get that bread, homie
got a pocket full of dead homies
(let’s get them!)
and i’mma get them to til dead homies!
put it to the set, boy, and i’m finally clean
igniting on the scene like a batch of metham
a hot blur on me, and some codeine
shoot it out slow, marching with the police.
get that money lately, know that they don’t like it
(don’t like it!)
running up a check, b-tch, stop fighting!
i do it for my n-gg-s, when they got…
talking about that money, know i’m driving.
hook: (x2)
man, i put that on the dead homies
all i know is get that bread, homie
got a pocket full of dead homies
(let’s get them!)
and i’mma get them to til dead homies!
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