Gunplay, Torch, Ace Hood - God Damn lyrics

Hey you heard about home boy yea, God damn
Left him with a house on why yea, God damn
I bet he know how we play now yea, God damn
Better lay down and stay down yea, God damn

Why they did that boy like that god damn
Why they did that boy like that god damn

Umpire show catcher, O miss
Dirty long ratchet, on lap
Hundred fifteen in the can
Dusty, still but it bam but it bam
You short by the gram you can die about that
Ain't no lyin' about that
My dog, so we go bang Buku
Hello, 88 apes, ZOO CREW
Handcuffs like a noose too
Bitch I'm black ops, noob tube
Now who wanna run one in won one done in
Left with ten one ten fuck you want me to do
Feelin' unbeatable
My wolf pack snappin', lookin' unfeedable
Get buddy, but he gon' get bruised
Untreatable
I'm on that shit Steven Seagal do
You know what i'm trialed all the way
The junkie tried it, man he died on the way
All that damn meat and mine on the way
You trap but you won't trap down all the way


Blood, sweat and tears mind over matter
Shittin on you niggas, got a bad bladder
Brand new panorama
(zoom) , my bitch from Atlanta
Sit on daddy lap, yeah she call me Santa
Dancin' in that pussy bitch I
Think I'm MC Hammer touch my paper bitch
I'm buckin' like I'm out of Tampa
Steel ladder, they say my flow tragic
But them niggas criticing like
It was pro rappin' real nigga
Deal with him
Leave a nigga in a box like Tommy Hilfiger
Put up K (put up K)
Give me some of them bad bitches
The ones who like 'it rough and
Hard like them college quizzes
You feel me (You feel me)
You feel me (You feel me)
Bad old bitches throw me back
Just like a Frisbee word up (word up)
Straight stuntin'
Bitch I hit the biller take the five hundred

AK, AR, hollow tip accessory
Run up in your vestibule
Dodge you like a decibel
Leave your ass a vegetable
Beefin', now you a side dish
I ain't a chef but I mastered how to fry fish
When digit's stackin
Kiddin' turned to kidnappin'
I know the pigs tap us so we convo pig latin
Feds following me like I'm playing Simon Says
Bishop then ride a maze
Nigga till the trauma dead
I'm with the drama kit
You know I drama do it right
Sheets on the spot, next stop trauma unit
Head bussa, meet her at a military
Brand like bills but he never
Ain't a bitch scared
Street sweepers, three divas
Straight stuntin' when money ain't lackin'
Of course they fuckin'
No strings, I control her, puppet master
Molar, stolen plaster, go get my money faster