Kishore Kumar Hits

Coreylte - Boombox! lyrics

Artist: Coreylte

album: Boombox!


(Shout-out Intensify)
(Morteh!)
My nigga, you don't wanna be a victim
My nigga, you don't want a 223 up in your system
My nigga, I don't want your bitch, you better come and get her
Tryna run up on a nigga like me and a bitch gon' get hurt (for real)
Ayy, a big 7.62, that's what just hit him (Bitch)
I can't go halves with no fuck nigga, that's why I just split him
I can't depend on nobody but 'Yac, that's why I love him
But these niggas make excuses like the world be tryna fuck them
But truthfully, you niggas know you not no main characters
Malaria, that nigga sick, I ain't no fuckin' carrier (Ayy, fuck that shit)
Shorty been a 304 and think I'm finna marry her
This bitch keep blowin' up my line, told her hit my carrier (Dumb bitch)
Ayy, I told her I don't care, I'm finna bury her
I burnt a bitch, but I didn't even fuck or get to cherish her
I burnt a gun, dig another hole for it to share with her
I do it like the weapon, leave her shit in different areas
Ayo, Big AK will blow your motherfuckin' face off
My bitch bad and boujee, and she ready for the takeoff (For the takeoff)
I've been workin' my ass off, I'm ready for that payoff
A nigga run up on me, tryna fire, and get laid off (Ayy)
One shot, ayy, two shots
Wrap his head, he in the whip, and traffic dead, 2Pac (Ayy, 2Pac)
Shit ain't funny no more like the Boondocks (Shit ain't funny)
I'm outside your crib with choppas like a boombox (Ayy, boom)
One shot, ayy, two shots
Wrap his head, he in the whip, and traffic dead, 2Pac (Ayy, like 2Pac)
Shit ain't funny no more like the Boondocks
I'm outside your crib with choppas like a boombox (Ayy, boom)
My niggas raisin' hell, that's how you heard about me
Now she carbon copied, need the type to leave my noggin' soggy
If she see me, treat the meat like it was Kawasaki
Grippin' handlebars, she give me gums and get the party started
Been that nigga in my fuckin' village, muzzle to the ceiling
If they feel us, pop out with gorillas, send me to the skrilla
Ain't no plastic in this rattle, put them bullets to your mass
Pedal faster, goin' tit-for-tat gon' leave him on a packet
Who ain't hard enough? Please don't get me started up
You was runnin' from the issue, nigga, you ain't far enough
Speak my name, I pull up where you stay like, "Bitch"
Ain't no warning shot, I grab the scope and let the target run
I need my Givenchy, Forgiatos on the Bentley
And you ain't really gang if I ain't seein' you in these trenches
Don't pull up where I lay, 'cause if you hang, you need permission
If he trip, he let it bang or I'ma spray it till it's empty (Bitch, ayy)
My niggas put up shots in different areas
Beyond scared, tell him get it straight before I bury him
Sticks and stones be down your block until it register
Compel the predators, you niggas not comin' competitive, ayy
One shot, ayy, two shots
Wrap his head, he in the whip, and traffic dead, 2Pac (Ayy, 2Pac)
Shit ain't funny no more like the Boondocks (Shit ain't funny)
I'm outside your crib with choppas like a boombox (Ayy, boom)
One shot, ayy, two shots
Wrap his head, he in the whip, and traffic dead, 2Pac (Ayy, like 2Pac)
Shit ain't funny no more like the Boondocks
I'm outside your crib with choppas like a boombox (Ayy, boom)

Поcмотреть все песни артиста

Other albums by the artist

Similar artists