|
Drag-On - Pop It lyrics
[verse 1] Yo, who want it with us, y'all niggas not fuckin wit us Y'all hoppin nimrods, we holdin on up under the truck We caked out, we all got cars so when we wake up in the mornin We race out, but first blow the place out It gets outrageous, to all my thug niggas throw your sets up And spit y'all razors I hop in to spin out, i'm the opposite of h2o So in the year 2000 the lights woulda never went out Plus i rock ice, it drips on my boot, i shake it off Cuz i'm fire, so every few seconds, i take it off I'm lightweight, i let y'all throw them dumbbells I just throw back them dumb dumb shells to make y'all run well I shoot dummies, blast backs Money gassed up while i'ma open this tank, yo pass me the shank I blackout, swipe em like a credit card til i max out And that's just to, let y'all know that drag is back now Hook 2x: icepick jay Now all my motherfuckin peoples say yeah yeah Now all my motherfuckin thugs say yeah yeah Now all my motherfuckin ladies say yeah yeah Yeah yeah throw your hands in the air, c'mon [verse 2] Y'all keep pushin that wack shit out there y'all unable Drag's like jumper cables, negative and a positive Y'all aint gon feel shit til y'all get alot of this I don't care about y'all hatin niggas my moms is part of this She looks ??????????????????????????? Cuz i drop them hits that make y'all chumps don't drop shit Drag straps up when he get up in his women Put somethin long in the booty have em switchin different I snatch niggas wife to show em the light Give em dick then i'm hittin the switch And while she snorin she don't know i'm gone by the mornin Back to the corner, til that blue van come up, my hands is cuffed uhh Whose fingers stay numb from rollin up Who finger fucks chicks til they throwin up Whose fingerprints cops keep showin up Cuz who that kid always ride and is throwin truck Hook 2x [verse 3] Yo, yo, i just take a strong pull and strike the match on niggas I spit lit candles and drop hot wax on niggas My middle name jason That means i'm capable of throwin a mass on and axe niggas Y'all better ax(ask) niggas First name mel, i mean that's what them checks say When they come in the mail, make bank tellers cum on theyself Count it fast ma, we all professionals here How's it feel knowin i'm walkin outta here With what you get in a year I'm rude to a bitch, but y'all niggas, get out the street Act like you don't see this black jeep, and get some flat feet Y'all rock gators, we straight problems We rock our timbs half o's, laces like our dogs got em Fuck it, for 2 minutes, let em play wit a new pair I got enough spares to flood the block with footwear Pockets like a blimp, shit it's been a good year Where my ruff ryders, we still in here Hook 4x |
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Last added lyrics |
|---|
 All the Way by Calloway |
 For the Love of My Man by Celi Bee |
 Reality Check by Juvenile |
 Tomorrow and Yesterday by Samson |
 Good Girl Gone Bad by Rihanna |
