lirik lagu zotiyac - cpr 2
i see you n-ggas is nervous, new de leave yo -ss wit the bird sh-t
anarchy, finna purge sh-t, drum like a half-moon, that b-tch look turkish
i got a mac, get yo -ss refurbished
or put a glock in a roni , convert it
he finna dye like detergent
he get a suit and tie like he a servant
he catch a dozen, like he deserve it
he gettin’ changed like he did the service
i’m on my brain, i”m on my nervous
you’ll get slain, bagged like birkin
boy you a lame, cap, he kirkin’
can’t find yo lane ’cause yo -ss keep purrpin’
you’ll get poked and that’s suburban
you’ll get smoked, that’s a bourbon
shot to yo head, gotta see how yo neck work
slide in yo ho, finna see how her neck work
n-gga don’t start me, you fresh meat
we finna turn that white tee to a red shirt
warrior, shootin’ like steph curr
i make a n-gga look dumb off the leg work
glock come second, he got the tec first
shoot through the backbone, watch how his chest burst
watch the demons come out of your torso
when they get out you gettin’ some more hoes
metal all in yo mouth like a ortho
make a n-gga move out like he forclosed
for sure, you a b-tch to the core ho
arm for war like my nickname gorro
harm more wh0r-s than a n-gga named tyrone
they snort more than a fiend named corso
thirty clip in that b-tch hanging floor-low
he gettin’ dot after dot like morse code
it give a speech, it’s not an award show
give you the beats, it ain’t got no court though
all in yo b-tch like a parasite
she finna hold on my sh-t like a terabyte
she prolly told you she wasn’t the type
both of them hoes ridin’ d-ck like they share a bike
these b-tches gettin’ too high like a pair of kites
f-ck it, both of them hoes finna share a flight
cuttin into this lil b-tch like a paring knife
rollin’ down paradise
f-ckin’ wit me yo head roll like a pair of dice
keep this sh-t hot, ’cause if we is not fahrenheit
whip out the fn and make it a fair fight
f-o-e
break yo neck like ddt
finna black like bet
get you changed like ebt
we slidin’ in like dvd
f-ck ’round, catch a acp
boy yo whip look mighty clean
keep that on lock like adt
or you gon’ need some cpr
record yo death like dvr
yo last breath gon’ be yo fault
catch fifty rounds, this 50 bars
come ’round on that, p-ss me off
might f-ck ’round, make my glizzy talk
that b-tch sing, celine dion
you get no air like jordin sparks
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