City Morgue - Nan lyrics
[City Morgue - Nan lyrics]
(Mula)
Can't talk much if your jaw wired (Bitch)
Choke niggas out with the barbed wire (Bitch)
Pull up on the block, just park by it (Skrrt)
Nigga’s got a stash in the car tire
Feds get the iPhone calls wired
Sellin' bricks, you a little 8 ball buyer
(Work)
Fiends took a week cause they bid higher
(Work) oD on the coke like Len Bias
Look, I hit the kitchen stove up
With the bakin' soda (Fish scale)
Dip into the oil, let it boil
Can’t take the odor
Treat your block like a firin' range
When I spray the Cobra (Blaow)
Kick back, from the click-clack
Might break a shoulder (Blaow)
Pussy nigga, it's a war report
No report card (Fuck outta here)
Shotgun, stash box, nigga, in a sports car
(Grrah) niggas getting shot, miss a lot
Pray to Allah bad bitch
She gon' fuck a nigga like a pornstar
(Slide)
Bitch, I mix up with the mid
Givin' treats to all my pit's (Okay)
If I'm swinging foot and fist, bloody mouth
It need a rinse (Okay)
Get your block turnt, mom hurt
Talk to your sponsor (Okay)
With them choppers, it's Saunder's
All in your spine, bitch
(Okay, okay, okay)
Niggas ain’t real ’cause they
Off of eight pills (Huh?)
Showed up to your man, I ain't like him
They ain’t real (Huh?)
Bitch, you not from these parts
You get killed (Okay)
Bitch, you not from these parts
You get killed (Okay)
Nah, nan nigga really want war with the gang
(No, no, no, no, no)
Nah, nan nigga really gonna talk in my face
(No, no, no, no, no)
Nah, nan nigga really uppin' drums and shit
(No, no, no, no, no)
Except the Morgue, and that's about it (Chee)
Can't talk much if your jaw wired (Bitch)
Choke niggas out with the barbed wire (Bitch)
Pull up on the block, just park by it (Skrrt)
Nigga’s got a stash in the car tire
Feds get the iPhone calls wired
Sellin' bricks, you a little 8 ball buyer
(Work)
Fiends took a week cause they bid higher
(Work) oD on the coke like Len Bias
Look, I hit the kitchen stove up
With the bakin' soda (Fish scale)
Dip into the oil, let it boil
Can’t take the odor
Treat your block like a firin' range
When I spray the Cobra (Blaow)
Kick back, from the click-clack
Might break a shoulder (Blaow)
Pussy nigga, it's a war report
No report card (Fuck outta here)
Shotgun, stash box, nigga, in a sports car
(Grrah) niggas getting shot, miss a lot
Pray to Allah bad bitch
She gon' fuck a nigga like a pornstar
(Slide)
Bitch, I mix up with the mid
Givin' treats to all my pit's (Okay)
If I'm swinging foot and fist, bloody mouth
It need a rinse (Okay)
Get your block turnt, mom hurt
Talk to your sponsor (Okay)
With them choppers, it's Saunder's
All in your spine, bitch
(Okay, okay, okay)
Niggas ain’t real ’cause they
Off of eight pills (Huh?)
Showed up to your man, I ain't like him
They ain’t real (Huh?)
Bitch, you not from these parts
You get killed (Okay)
Bitch, you not from these parts
You get killed (Okay)
Nah, nan nigga really want war with the gang
(No, no, no, no, no)
Nah, nan nigga really gonna talk in my face
(No, no, no, no, no)
Nah, nan nigga really uppin' drums and shit
(No, no, no, no, no)
Except the Morgue, and that's about it (Chee)