Jay Worthy, Harry Fraud, Conway The Machine, Big Body Bes - Helicopter Homicide lyrics

La musica de Harry Fraud ayy, yeah

That bitch you call your wife was my first ho
I use to dress her on the
Blade in my fur coat
Now you kiss her on the mouth
She used to sniff coke i had her on the same
Strip where they sell dope
No shame in it, posting ads off my cell phone
The homies looking at you like a
Yeedo or a come up
Something in the set that they could feed on
I did my thing up in these
Streets and that's on P-funk
Spraying paint up on these
Breakers, blood drip, i get my bleed on
Pouring fours of the Wock', I get my lean on
Shit ain't been thе same since G Wee gone
Couplе more fed' years
Face will be full of those tattoo tears
When you come home
We gon' whip you in jet Lears
Where I bodied in the set
Had to burn this bitch down
Ho was greener than the Grinch
Had to turn this bitch out

Yeah, look, uh

These niggas rap real good
But never seen paper we major, nigga
The Ms about to be a teenager
Conway Machine and Harry fraud beat cremator
From where young niggas push Trackhawks
Like they Speed Racer (Vroom)
Convertor switch on Glockianna with
The green laser (Uh, huh)
They tough on Internet
But pussy when they see you later (Pussy)
A splash of pineapple juice
My Casa Mi' chaser
Bitches see me skip to my Lou
Like they seen Rafer (Ha)
Yo, why these niggas always need favors?
(Huh?) i'm tryna own a bunch of land, dawg
I need acres (Talk to 'em)
Do this shit independently
I don't need majors
Taking a lion's share of the bag
Owning the art when I'm the creator
(In yo' bag) the difference with us is y'all
Givers and we takers (Uh, huh)
Ball up a Russian cream and
Let the weed take us
Told niggas I'ma touch hundred Ms
Them niggas sneezed at the thought
But they gonna see later
Machine (Look at 'em now)

Uh, no problem, you need somebody to blame?
Just say my name and I will appear
Just hit my promoter
You could book me for any arraignment
Book me for your crime scene, uh
Book me for your shooting
I'll be there, oh, I'll be there, yes
It's me JuJu, Mr three for Twenty-Five
Akademiks jeans
I jump out, burners in both hands
And I'm shooting and spittin'
Helicopter homicide if I go, we gonna all go
Gasoline bath the block flacco, light it