Kuniva, Denaun - Wrong lyrics
[Kuniva, Denaun - Wrong lyrics]
Uh, yeah d12 uh, yo, yo
Yo I think it's time to kill all the drama
Mane it's three o'clock yo it's time
To fuck your momma, mane
See I don't give a fuck
I deal with that karma, mane
I plant bullets in you niggas like a farmer
Mane i'm never slackin' up
Steering in the right lane
Shootin' niggas house up or sippin'
On some night train
High as a kite mane, now you on some trouble
Buck-50 across your face
If you winning I'ma cut you
And still bustin' nigga bubble
Leave you in a bloody puddle
At your funeral, they cuddle
Bang like three gats
Show me where the peace at?
Shoot him in his kneecap
Take his little weed sack
Three niggas with three MACs
Pull your car seat back
Hit 'em with the heat black
Leave 'em in the street black
With some real streets cats
While you're out touring, mane
We still shoot up niggas
While they performing, mane
I'm still ripping while you
Checking off some chicken
I'ma shoot right in your kitchen
Now your lower neck is missing
And don't know the meaning of the
Word "Pull your skirt up"
You don't know about the Dozen
Motherfucker you will get murdered
You got it right nigga
We the ones you fight with
Got them nines spitting at you
We will end your life quick
That house nigga that, house nigga this
Want some black in you bitch then
Suck a house nigga dick
It ain't about a magazine
It ain't about race
It's about you spitting ghostwritten shit
Out of your face so die another day
Because you know it's entertainment
I stuck you out of shape
Pale face into the pavement
The cotton pickers goin' crazy on this lady
With the braids while the
Babies in the shady, niggas praise me
You're out on the wolf tickets
Niggas you wack as fuck
(Yo, give me a shank let me take
Champagnes up)
Okay, you can't even write rapture
You're damned at fifty years old
Your daddy's on his death bed
You're never gonna go gold
It's best if you'd just shut it up
Fresh whoops when it's lettered up
You don't want it with me
Take a L like a 7-Up
Fuck your momma I give back
Shots to your woman
Guess you could say that she
Got cock in her stomach
If the bitch say she pregnant
No I'm not gonna want it
But, you suckers jump, fuck it
I'll make you pay for it mane
Now you pissed, in the club all louder
Jamie Foxx your punk ass
Hop back through the crowd
Lick a shot for my man
Who just got locked down
(Ayo, yo, yo, yo, yo fuck that, keep goin')
'Cause when the bodies start droppin'
Niggas mommas get to crying
Traffic move a little slow
A funeral be passing by 'em
This shit could've been prevented
If you hadn't started whinin'
'Bout a hundred bein' infractioned and
Most niggas that be rhymin'
Yo I think it's time to kill all the drama
Mane it's three o'clock yo it's time
To fuck your momma, mane
See I don't give a fuck
I deal with that karma, mane
I plant bullets in you niggas like a farmer
Mane i'm never slackin' up
Steering in the right lane
Shootin' niggas house up or sippin'
On some night train
High as a kite mane, now you on some trouble
Buck-50 across your face
If you winning I'ma cut you
And still bustin' nigga bubble
Leave you in a bloody puddle
At your funeral, they cuddle
Bang like three gats
Show me where the peace at?
Shoot him in his kneecap
Take his little weed sack
Three niggas with three MACs
Pull your car seat back
Hit 'em with the heat black
Leave 'em in the street black
With some real streets cats
While you're out touring, mane
We still shoot up niggas
While they performing, mane
I'm still ripping while you
Checking off some chicken
I'ma shoot right in your kitchen
Now your lower neck is missing
And don't know the meaning of the
Word "Pull your skirt up"
You don't know about the Dozen
Motherfucker you will get murdered
You got it right nigga
We the ones you fight with
Got them nines spitting at you
We will end your life quick
That house nigga that, house nigga this
Want some black in you bitch then
Suck a house nigga dick
It ain't about a magazine
It ain't about race
It's about you spitting ghostwritten shit
Out of your face so die another day
Because you know it's entertainment
I stuck you out of shape
Pale face into the pavement
The cotton pickers goin' crazy on this lady
With the braids while the
Babies in the shady, niggas praise me
You're out on the wolf tickets
Niggas you wack as fuck
(Yo, give me a shank let me take
Champagnes up)
Okay, you can't even write rapture
You're damned at fifty years old
Your daddy's on his death bed
You're never gonna go gold
It's best if you'd just shut it up
Fresh whoops when it's lettered up
You don't want it with me
Take a L like a 7-Up
Fuck your momma I give back
Shots to your woman
Guess you could say that she
Got cock in her stomach
If the bitch say she pregnant
No I'm not gonna want it
But, you suckers jump, fuck it
I'll make you pay for it mane
Now you pissed, in the club all louder
Jamie Foxx your punk ass
Hop back through the crowd
Lick a shot for my man
Who just got locked down
(Ayo, yo, yo, yo, yo fuck that, keep goin')
'Cause when the bodies start droppin'
Niggas mommas get to crying
Traffic move a little slow
A funeral be passing by 'em
This shit could've been prevented
If you hadn't started whinin'
'Bout a hundred bein' infractioned and
Most niggas that be rhymin'