Tag: Nike Tech

Babytron – Houdini Lyrics


[ Verse ]
I don’t want the head if it don’t come with spit puddles
Take his old ass inside or Imma lift on em
If I’m in Walmart then I’m chip busting
Smoking boogie out the wood it came with cousins
The chop loud imma switch muzzles
Rocking out with 2 drums imma hit something
Gave his ass 32 imma rip something
Get online with a punch then I ship something
If I ship something gotta camp around the corner
Oh your granny sleep imma scam her in the morning
Raygun on me imma blast on him into orbit
Only hit 10s imma crack her if she foreign
Dick put her on a walker, summer
Dawg full of a shit he a walking plumber
Used to be down imma ball this summer
Throw me a visa imma all-time puncher
Brought the handkerchief at Jay Alex got me talking proper
Catch me OT with some Bosses prolly talking dollars
Doin fraud in this trench coat and I’m talking opera
Can this bitch put her head down man she talk for hours
Can’t believe you cuffed girl she was easy as can be
I’m the punch god, yes fraud is as easy as it seems
Throw a hook at you boy imma leave it to Kareem (Abdul)
In the mall gettin drip had to take a picture
Leave that bitch while you can she won’t take you with her
Get the face and kick her out and you came to get her
Ain’t jay wheezy with the fraud but I play with wizards
At the self scam working magic
All the miris got stains on my purple pants
I was in a dark room then the curtains vanished
How you get money boy have you heard of scamming?
S-C-A-M f*cking dummy head
They put locks on the door but we coming in
If that one bag open then I’m jumping in

If she play hard to get slam dunk her friend
What you think bitch the thrust forever on
What you think bitch my trust forever gone
If the piece hit punch another phone
Do 3 tricks up another roll
Pieces hitting up Detroit feeling like Polamalu
Oh you think I’m soft boy? I’ve been tryna pop you
To the opps when see you imma Molotov you
Send my bitch to a clerk she a Ronda Rousey
If I catch you out shoot a movie like my baby art
Bro chop go boo-da-dook that’s a baby shark
Shittyboyz… that’s her favorite part
I was down now I’m up boy I hang with stars
I’ll put him underneath like a subtitle
Imma f*cking heavyweight where my jugg title
I just wanna say thing man I love Myers
Scat pack a got wasp spot it’ll buzz by him
Stop drinking green, Luigi
Can’t pronounce what I’m eating, Lugini
Hit em with a trick, Houdini
Hit her with the —-, she screaming
This bitch a demon with the head, she a hell raiser
Lil bro a [?]
Seen dawg out bet he felt danger
Somewhere happy OT I ain’t felt anger
I remember when my heart felt shattered
Put it back together when I learned the cell scamming
Caution tape on me oops that’s the belt pattern
If you take dubs you gon take some L’s after
Nah I’m playin, I think I’m undefeated with the scams
I’m in south beach foolin with some Visas in my hand
See a opp he see Jesus unless it jam
If its online of course imma punch it then
In the Nike Tech with the dogshit showing
Facecard too cold man this bitch frozen
Johnny Cage with the chop it got kick on it
If its something bout the past you can piss on it

Montana of 300 – Monster Lyrics

Play this song

I’m a monster, the streets made me a monster
I got my guap up, green on me like Blonca
You see I’m clean but that don’t mean you can’t get mopped up
I keep the Glock tucked, play with me get boxed up

[Verse 1]
Before the rap I was the plug, I’m who they copped from
Had lil bro selling pounds for me when I got locked up
I used to pray the neighbors never called the cops up
Streets ain’t no game, been moving weight like I’m E. Honda
Don’t make me pull up on you, shooting like Black Mamba
You gon’ need Jesus, God, a vest and Kevin Costner
After I dump, I leave him slumped, fucked up his posture
Step back like Harden, cook his top ’til I see pasta
I had to go through some crazy times
Witnessed murder at the age of 9
My first gun was a P89
Had to stay with that Glock, they ain’t taking mine
Paying bills, a few lawyers, and paying fines
Had a bitch lying saying her baby mine
Had some homies hating on the way he grind
Before fans I had clientele pay me mine
All of the pain that I been through
All of the struggle I went through
[?] only motive my mental, why only count on my pistol?
Gangsters don’t talk on computers, all that tough talk don’t amuse us
And when I slap this dick in the 40, bitch I ain’t fuckin’ no cougar

I’m a monster, the streets made me a monster
I got my guap up, green on me like Blonca
You see I’m clean but that don’t mean you can’t get mopped up
I keep the Glock tucked, play with me get boxed up

[Verse 2]
I’m in my bag, you don’t want smoke, this ain’t no ganja
Slide like a hockey team with sticks, I make the opps duck
Don’t give no fuck ’bout who you got up on yo’ roster
My shooters hands filled up with bands, bitch I’m they sponsor
We all got 30s, do you dirty, you’ll get mopped up
I’ll snap my fingers, they gon’ cook him like Red Lobster
I’ll slide ’em bread, y’all know y’all toast soon as they pop up
Ain’t shit you can do, light ’em all up like it’s Kwanzaa
From the ‘jects, from the trenches, I’m from the gutta
Told myself, man I gotta come up with something
Keep my head up in life like it upper-cut him
I was fly, they was hating, I wasn’t buggin’
Bought a MAC and a vest from my uncle Bubba
I was turnt, packing heat like a fuckin’ oven
Had some opps until I dropped a couple of ’em
Left ’em lying, I been had the jungle jumpin’
They say they tryna find out where I be at
They been talking for years and ain’t try me yet
Yeah I know haters looking, that’s why we flex
You know I keep the TEC in my Nike Tech
And you know I’m a savage like Randy
I guess all of the pain came in handy
Got the drum in my clip
When I come in this bitch, pussy you gon’ need more than a Plan B

I’m a monster, the streets made me a monster
I got my guap up, green on me like Blonca
You see I’m clean but that don’t mean you can’t get mopped up
I keep the Glock tucked, play with me get boxed up

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