Chief Keef - Hiding lyrics
Chief Keef [Keith Farrelle Cozart] Chicago, Illinois, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Chief Keef - Hiding lyrics]
What do you want? What do you want?
What do you want? What do you want?
What do you want? What do you want?
What do you want? What do you want?
I got my pistol, that's my issue
My pistol get you, it got that grip too
I shoot it at you, them bullets catch you
And now you're done, you couldn't wrestle
All of these niggas, they pretenders
Act like they with you, they out to get you
So don't trust them, So don't love them
They want your spot, they want your hustle
If you flex, they want your muscle
Rings on all ten hands and
They want your knuckles
Bitches calling me, they want my time
But I'm chasing after money runnin'
What do you want? Where are you going?
What you doing, if you ain't getting money?
I'm smoking ganja, I'm counting commas
I got my llama, so nigga don't try us
I'm blasting at you, I'm laughing at you
Flexing throwing cash up on your bitch
And throwing cash up at you
I threw some ketchup at you
Cause you need to catch up
You full of mayonnaise, I'll let Nina red ya
You in the red line, that's the dead line
You ain't got my money on time
Then that's your head mon
Bumbaclottin', Rasta-rockin'
Rastafari mothafucka, damn near lion
I got choppers, I got gwala
I got partners, send you to the doctor
I got guns, singing like opera
And my partners, they got money
We ain't for nu uh
Fuck ya momma, fuck ya poppa
What the fuck you doing
If you ain't getting money?
Bitch I'm 3hunna, my niggas riding
And we sliding, bitch we ain't hiding
What do you want? What do you want?
What do you want? What do you want?
What do you want? What do you want?
I got my pistol, that's my issue
My pistol get you, it got that grip too
I shoot it at you, them bullets catch you
And now you're done, you couldn't wrestle
All of these niggas, they pretenders
Act like they with you, they out to get you
So don't trust them, So don't love them
They want your spot, they want your hustle
If you flex, they want your muscle
Rings on all ten hands and
They want your knuckles
Bitches calling me, they want my time
But I'm chasing after money runnin'
What do you want? Where are you going?
What you doing, if you ain't getting money?
I'm smoking ganja, I'm counting commas
I got my llama, so nigga don't try us
I'm blasting at you, I'm laughing at you
Flexing throwing cash up on your bitch
And throwing cash up at you
I threw some ketchup at you
Cause you need to catch up
You full of mayonnaise, I'll let Nina red ya
You in the red line, that's the dead line
You ain't got my money on time
Then that's your head mon
Bumbaclottin', Rasta-rockin'
Rastafari mothafucka, damn near lion
I got choppers, I got gwala
I got partners, send you to the doctor
I got guns, singing like opera
And my partners, they got money
We ain't for nu uh
Fuck ya momma, fuck ya poppa
What the fuck you doing
If you ain't getting money?
Bitch I'm 3hunna, my niggas riding
And we sliding, bitch we ain't hiding