Corey S. - Down Here

I fear no man put that on my brohams
All my niggas squeeze like we quadriplegia
No hands
To cease ya family from breathing its like, four bands
They probably throw it in for free to kill your mans
Write it off and tax it to the streets like
God damn them
Lord forgive me for my speech I learned to talk down here
Lord forgive me when I'm weak I learned to walk down here
Yellow tape and lots a chalk down here
It's like the devil got the spark down here
Bright lights big cities red and blues dodging piggies
Getting bacon on the corner fry it up for them civilies
To raise a young nigga its gon take a village oy
So everybody in this bitch a become custy or I pillage
I'm a kill or make a killing
Death is cold so I ain't chilling
Got my heat in case they grilling
You know that feeling when killers is looking
You feeling composed but you kinda shooken mm mm mm mm
Whos soul bout to be took
I take yo soul like I'm a crook
Fools gold and all yall took
They switch in sides that's all that it took
A bitch wit a lie yall niggas cooked damn oy
A bitch with a lie yall niggas cooked
Fish don't fly but niggas is hooked
Bait on the line fate on the line
Pulling the string make it a crime
Murder murder no love allowed
Braaat braaaat dats hunnid rounds
That's a couple pounds
Shh there's snitches in town
See, they whispering now oy
Quiet as kept I'm slept on
Try to step and get stepped on
I suggest put ya vest on
Smith and west make ya chest gone
Southwest in the deadzone
Big plays like a endzone
Put ya main bitch in friendzone
Oy yeah
Giving niggas game like its ted talk
To the green mile let the dead walk
Getting dead prez till i'm senile
You Should see me now
Got some felines on the prowl
Beeline to the clouds
Spread wings daddy proud
Tricking money by the pound
She pick money off the ground
Only like the money sound
Dummy down and I'm stupid fresh
I'm a 1 of 1 you can choose the rest
1 on 1 Jordan in the flesh
Black brady I'm a fucking vet
Whos line am I in Wayne Brady
Improvise till I go and get the check
Till I and go and get the check
I fear no man put that on my brohams
All my niggas squeeze like we quadriplegia
No hands
To cease ya family from breathing its like, 4 bands
They probably throw it in for free to kill your mans
Write it off and tax it to the streets like
God damn them
Lord forgive me for my speech I learned to talk down here
Lord forgive me when I'm weak I learned to walk down here
Yellow tape and lots a chalk down here

Written by:
Corey Soares

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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