Lil Tjay, Polo G & Fivio Foreign - Headshot

  • File Type: MP3
  • Duration: 02:24
  • File Size: 5.6 MB
  • File Bitrate: 320 kbps
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Music Clip
Song Lyrics
(Pipe that shit up, TnT)
(Tahj Money)
(Dmac on the f**king track)
(Bordeaux and Non Native)

I'm the one tried to make a way when we was strugglin'
I remember rain, sleet or snow, I was hustlin'
Know the feds watchin', middle fingers to the government
Glock in this Louis pouch, nigga I ain't tusslin'
Catfish, he don't really know who he f**kin' with
Opps send a message, you grab a Drac' to rebuttal it
Had the undertaker at your tombstone shovelin'
Hell yeah, hollows 'bout to chew 'em like some Doublemint
Made it out the field with some niggas I was thuggin' with
We'll send some shots through they crowd while they huddlin'
I'm the type to leave it in the streets, I ain't discussin' it
Tryna make a flip, I need that Rolls-Royce Cullinan
Old bitch is trippin', cut her off like a Backwood
Middle of the trenches, that's where me and the guys stood
Killers anonymous, black mask and black hoods
Walk down on him, make sure he get clapped good

I feel like the man of the hour (I do)
This gun on me (gun on me), I'm demandin' the power (brr)
He never talk to my face, (nah) your man is a coward (ayy, uh, uh)
Go looking for him every hour (uh)
I remember nights in the tower (I do)
She suckin' my dick out the shower
Tell her be quiet, she told me f**k her even louder (ayy, ayy, uh)
Paid now (paid now), feet up (feet up)
All of your sneakers is beat up (they are)
Percocet (Percocet), geek up (geek up)
We see the police and we speed up
Uh, yeah, look, they try to catch us and link us (they tryna catch us and link us)
Uh, yeah, they tryna find us (they tryna find us) but they don't know where to meet us
She wanna chill with me and all my niggas (she do)
She get extra freaky off the liquor, uh
She told us that she got a man
So we extra sneaky when I'm with her
She a lil' bad broad (huh)
She wanna go mad far
Fivio Foreign in a fast car
I'm in a fast car, uh

Fresh in the game, still see it as a blessin', the same
Hundred thousand 'round my neck for the chain
Tryna go out like a vet in the game
Put respect on my name
No security, I flex with gang
I'm a real one
Reminiscin' about all my decisions
Embracin' the way of livin', I was runnin' through the field dumb
Couple niggas disrespected we done killed them
Keep a shooter, they don't see he my lil' one
30 shots, we ain't into using lil' guns
Nigga talkin' like he know me, he my real son
Rap beef, f**k the cap, I'ma drill some
Put the glizzy to your melon make you feel dumb
Headshot, all black he don't feel nothin'
Couple hollows to his back, we done filled 'em
Headshot, or a life long sentence
What you need for them to label you a real one
Song Writers: Tione Merritt, Taurus Bartlett, Maxie Ryles, Thomas Horton, Tahj Vaughn, David McDowell, Luis Campozano, Brendan Walsh