SUBMIT LYRICS
Top 100
Album releases
artists
Community
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Correction Lyrics
Chicago to Memphis
by
NLE Choppa
Back
Lyrics
N***a, f**k F**k n***a, f**k n***a, f**k n***a (Run that back, Playboi) Raise the murder rate (Raise it up) Anytime a n***a play, we raise the murder rate (Raise it up) Broad day, let thirty shots off and we skrrt away Park the car, don't drop off I be frontline when it pop off When it's crunch time, make it hot sauce Homicide, gon' tape his block off Let the Glock off, knock yo' top off Ayy, watch him fly away (Fly away) Tryna stay up out them streets, I had to fly away Mama pray, I'm too deep in the streets to stop, I can't (I can't) Really rich, I woke up, thought to buy that watch, I ain't (F**k) I bank at five banks (Five banks) In my hood, I'm hall of fame I'm on that nine rank Changed the game, I showed my n***as how to play, I got away (I got away) Still ain't put that fire away You wanna die? Just try today My mind right, I'm flying straight I probably walk away Plus, I know you n***as hoes, just act tough and talk away Eighteen got sacked up and strappеd up, just off a play And I ain't hidin', I'm in LA, I'm in a Lamb', I'm in valet Ayy, switch out the tags and the VIN, 'causе I wanna spin again Couple shots in the FN, the rest of 'em in his friend Ain't enough money in this world that'll make me cross a friend Ain't enough loyalty in this world for you to comprehend Freaky b*t*h, I beat her back until it bend and it break Gave me head up in the 'Cat, I put the police on the chase (Police on the chase) Came in her mouth, got away, and still ain't ever hit the brakes Asked her, was she fine? She said her hair f**ked up but she okay I'm as cutthroat as it get, and I'm 'bout as grimy as a hoe (Grimy as a hoe) Glizzy gotta match my fit or I ain't steppin' out the door Thirty shots, it wasn't enough, so I got fifty at the most Scratch the serial up out this b*t*h, now both of y'all are ghosts (Brr, brr, brr) Get my jewelry from Flawless Diamonds, but my b*t*h go to Watkins (Go to Wafi) Might get a Urus on perfect timing, just to say I bought it N***as weird, they sneak dissin' on me, and damn right, I caught it (Damn right I caught it) A couple weeks later, we had his momma picking coffins This that sh*t that have you going a hunnid on the E-way Stop the car, let me out, I left him layin' on the freeway Got n***as shooting behind and after me, like its a relay Blow his candles at his candlelight, call it a murder B-Day (Br-brr-brr-brrt) F**k the scoreboard, n***a, you could check the stat sheet Run sh*t down like Sha'Carri in a track meet Put him in the backseat, then kill him on the backstreet Two shooters a tag team, his noodles on concrete (Concrete) N***a, business is what we standin' on Bullets hit his back, tell him to show it off like it's VLONE Few things I don't play about, money and respect, and my jawns You see me, might play around, but I got bodies on my dome Shot a n***a at fifteen, I never looked back since Slam dunk a opp, my arm in the rim like I'm Vince Purple bandana, purple outfit, purple rain, like I'm Prince (Crip, crip, crip, crip, crip, crip) I'm a money makin' n***a but I can't go out like Mitch (Brrt, brrt, brrt) I bet them bullets change the subject Why you stop sucking my d**k, b*t*h, you seen I ain't nut yet (The f**k) N***as can talk all they want, I still ain't been touched yet Brodie tell me chill, he know I kill, but, n***a, f**k that (N***a f**k that) Cause if I don't get him, they got me (Brrt) If I don't feel 'em, they bodied (Brrt) Put 33 in 'em, Scottie, no Pippen (Brrt) Them bullets hit him, inject him, he feel 'em like penicillin We put n***as past the ceiling, in the sky givin' God a visit Murder, murder, killin', killin' Dirty .30 filled with sinnin' For certain, I'm murkin' a person thinking that I ain't with it (I ain't with it) Close the curtain, hospital visits We flatlinin' them b*t*hes, double back Nine of them n***as hit up his spine, now he Crippin' (Brrr) Spine now he Crippin', n***a Crip, n***a NLE the Top Shotta (Shotta), got the bombs like Al-Qaeda (Al-Qaeda) Like what man? I'll drop 'em (Brr-brr) Man, I'll slaughter, n***a These n***as know what we standin' on
music video
Your name will be published. Leave fields blanks to remain anonymous.
Submit
Modal title
×
Insert media
Video URL?
(YouTube, Vimeo, Instagram, DailyMotion, Soundcloud)
×
Remember me
Lost password
Sign in
Register