Correction Paroles Goin' in for the Kill par French Montana

Featuring(s) : Cheeze & Chinx

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Paroles

I'm goin' in for the kill
I'm doin' it for a thrill
Oh, I'm hoping you'll understand
And not let go of my hand
I'm goin' in for the kill
I'm doin' it for a thrill
Oh, I'm hoping you'll understand
And not let go of my hand

Ya'll niggas need a co-sign; homie, I'm the gold mine
Montana Johnson when it's showtime
Nigga pass the ball, make a call; watch me go in for the kill
I was stuntin' on you corny niggas way before the deal
Fast money, fuckin' hoes, flippin' work; call me flip
Rap niggas all diesel, homie; probably a script
See the black van packed up; ski-masks, black gloves
Four niggas mashed up, get a nigga wrapped up
I did it like a boss, fuck a hand-out
Room full of centers, I'm a stand-out
Now I gave 'em no choice; got the coke-boy shit planned out
Hundred-fifty Spider all tanned out; Montana (Montana)

Listen, for all my dope-boys up over them pots mixin'
New [?] on the block chasin' hot vixens
Gettin' money, right? Well do your thing, shorty
The drama messy, I send some niggas to clean for me
They leave the scene spotless; I like my V's topless
The hoes talk about me, see I'm the trendin' topic
See the riot's that gang, and ya'll know that
That break it up and give it to the strip, you know I'm on that
I'm stickin' to the format
Never catch him slippin', like I'm stickin' to the floor-mat
So these niggas could fall back
I toss some money in the sky and watch it trickle down
Came a long way from the P's; take a look at me now

I'm doin' it for a thrill
Oh, I'm hoping you'll understand
And not let go of my hand
I'm goin' in for the kill
I'm doin' it for a thrill
Oh, I'm hoping you'll understand
And not let go of my hand

Keys to the Beamer; Beamie take the top off
Did ya'll watch the fumes come out like a genie?
That's the Sour; power can't kill me, bitch
Love when I'm high, cause my eyes look dreamy
Four-fifth chrome, that'll leave your dome steamy
Custom-made Lenscrafters still couldn't see me
Flip, pimp, and crack dough
I roll the O, you pop the Ex; tick-tack-toe
Send my condolence, give him hope for best wishes
They hate cause they bitches; ride my stick like witches
Nowadays niggas fraudulent, frontin'; all gimmicks
In the game they all the same; might as well get a mimic
Order to your dog, UPS with deliverance
My man in the can gettin' green like spinach
We'll be like Popeye the sailorman
Yeah, Cheeze ya dealin' man
They spinnin' on the top, like ceiling fans

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