K.D. - SCR!lla SH!t

You think niggas like sellin’ crack and shit nigga
You think niggas like puttin’ crack in they ass nigga
What do you think? Cause he gotta know my nigga
Money is not evil nigga
You think niggas like shootin’ niggas my nigga
You think niggas like tuckin’ packs
You can’t keep saying you a Harlem nigga
And you don’t want that scrilla nigga
Bitches do not want a nigga with no money
Or did you not learn this in Harlem lesson number 1
It’s make guap or die nigga
You wanna do it for Harlem nigga
Make that GUAP, MONEY! NIGGA
Uh
This that shit
This that shit
This that shit
This that Scrilla Hill shit
This that shit
This that shit
This that shit
This that Scrilla Hill shit
I been flexin’ on you had to get my weight up
Back on my harlem shit so tell these niggas pay up
Bath salts, Jeffrey Dahmer blade will eat ya face up
They all been sleepin’ on me now it’s time to wake up
Ball hard like Juwanna Mann
On my block they move contraband
In my hood all we do is sin
Took some losses to gain a win
Can’t escape all the negligence
Bust a shot when I’m barging in
Want it all ain’t no bargaining
Take what’s mine then I shot again, then I shot again
Oh! Fuck the radio I got the shit that’s bumping through ya speakers
Posted 409 them hallways prolly smokin’ on some reefer
Cops patrol the block, glocks hanging off em’ like a beeper
Graduated school of hard knocks, never saw my teacher
This that shit
This that shit
This that shit
This that Scrilla Hill shit
This that shit
This that shit
This that shit
This that Scrilla Hill shit
Pockets low, pockets swole
Pocket rocket, locked n load
Where’s the dough
I don’t know
Eenie, meenie, miney, mo
Beast, beast
May I see your ID please
Man, I told you I ain’t got no ID bro
You have any ID I can look at
This nigga here, always fuckin with a nigga

Written by:
Quincy Sullivan

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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