Until Further Notice Songtext
von Tsu-Surf
Until Further Notice Songtext
Type of demons you find in hell
He want five or better we gon′ fly the mail
Two types in this world you either buy or sell
He won't say a word to twelve probably gon′ die in jail
Belly won't wear my watch you know they say time will tell
Lawyer well acquainted with your honor we don't gotta tell
Baby brodie did it for the block so he don′t gotta bail
Youngest hitters make ′em sit the bench they don't play a lot
Durk losing vibes make me think about Grey a lot
Cartier blood diamond wrist cost a few to bling
Pussy good if I propose I get her a new b-ring
Wrong hood you dead here
I be gеttin′ dressed in case thеs pictures think it's feds near
Most my niggas face tatted with tears on the fed tear
Gotta keep the stick around
Certain information shouldn′t leak I think a snitch around
Know its ceilings for 'em when we catch ′em don't be bitchin' now
Stand up nigga system got ′em how they sit him down
Thirty for insurance don′t do Geico
Where I'm at the pipe go
I could call a fiend to give a hundred grams lipo
Half a thirty Percocet I call her for the throat and neck
If he a opp and he ain′t dead then he ain't never pose a threat
Hammer spit blowing Cali buds this banana piss
Praying to the heavens panoramic shit
We don′t do no pork beat the course I might lease a Porsche
Lamborghini drops on Lizave who the king of Newark
My killers know my mother family brothers we need each other
The wolves get to howling 'cause they hungry I feed ′em suckas
Fighting for his life but he giving up
Twenty five to life we send a pix he gotta live through us
Gave niggas guns gave 'em bread I never give 'em trust
Belly putting cut into the product how we get the rush
Gang gang
He want five or better we gon′ fly the mail
Two types in this world you either buy or sell
He won't say a word to twelve probably gon′ die in jail
Belly won't wear my watch you know they say time will tell
Lawyer well acquainted with your honor we don't gotta tell
Baby brodie did it for the block so he don′t gotta bail
Youngest hitters make ′em sit the bench they don't play a lot
Durk losing vibes make me think about Grey a lot
Cartier blood diamond wrist cost a few to bling
Pussy good if I propose I get her a new b-ring
Wrong hood you dead here
I be gеttin′ dressed in case thеs pictures think it's feds near
Most my niggas face tatted with tears on the fed tear
Gotta keep the stick around
Certain information shouldn′t leak I think a snitch around
Know its ceilings for 'em when we catch ′em don't be bitchin' now
Stand up nigga system got ′em how they sit him down
Thirty for insurance don′t do Geico
Where I'm at the pipe go
I could call a fiend to give a hundred grams lipo
Half a thirty Percocet I call her for the throat and neck
If he a opp and he ain′t dead then he ain't never pose a threat
Hammer spit blowing Cali buds this banana piss
Praying to the heavens panoramic shit
We don′t do no pork beat the course I might lease a Porsche
Lamborghini drops on Lizave who the king of Newark
My killers know my mother family brothers we need each other
The wolves get to howling 'cause they hungry I feed ′em suckas
Fighting for his life but he giving up
Twenty five to life we send a pix he gotta live through us
Gave niggas guns gave 'em bread I never give 'em trust
Belly putting cut into the product how we get the rush
Gang gang
Writer(s): Kristof Lilienthal, Rahjon Cox Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

