Hands up, Lay Down - Twista, Waka Flocka Flame

Hands up, Lay Down - Twista, Waka Flocka Flame

Год
2010
Язык
`English`
Длительность
218170

Below is the lyrics of the song Hands up, Lay Down , artist - Twista, Waka Flocka Flame with translation

Lyrics " Hands up, Lay Down "

Original text with translation

Hands up, Lay Down

Twista, Waka Flocka Flame

Hands uuuuup, lay dowwwwwn

Count to ten before you get up off the ground

When you do I disappear, like the matrix

But if you don’t, then my thumper gon' leave you wasted

Dude tried to steal on me, so I’m already pumped (WHAT!)

Why you steady standin there talkin that shit?

B-Hype gon' go to the trunk

Unload the fivers, SK’s and millimeter choppers

I got niggaz that be killers with some shit

that when you shoot it on the block it sound like a helicopter

It’s hard out ch’ere, motherfuckers ain’t got no work

It’s a few niggaz got cocaine, few niggaz got dope, most niggaz got purp'

Lil' nigga tried to play you shady, instead of yellin out three folks and

almighty

They be talkin 'bout '80s babies, shorties that was born in the '90s is grimy

No respect and no morals, actin like you owe that shit

Fuck up out my face big homie, matter fact gon' load that shit

It done got so crazy up in the streets sometimes I can’t believe that this my

land

Lil' girls used to wanna fuck a dope boy, now they wanna fuck a stick-up man

Midwest comin in the club with the Folks, Midwest comin in the club with the

Lords

Midwest comin in the club with the, the Latin King boys man they minds

straight gone

What’s bangin joe?

Pants hang low, why you start playin, that’s the gang

Came a long way from sellin weed, pills and cocaine

Niggaz catch a body just to get a little street fame

C’mon got crunk, that’s cream now Flocka

Keep ya on ya toes, I ain’t playin wit’chu nigga

The way a nigga rob ya I think I need a Oscar

Trick booty nigga I ain’t playin wit’cha partner

They say Flock (WHAT!) yo' friends don’t know how to act

We shootin and fightin over here, and that’s a real muh’fuckin fact

Blap, bottle full of Fuki, version of Tookie

All these tats make a nigga wanna shoot me, all these diamonds make a groupie

wanna do me

Who are you to judge it bruh?

Hoe please trip, hell yeah we grippin

Cut me one time yo the nigga catch you slippin

All that bullshit everyday set trippin (WAKA FLOCKA! FLOCKA! WAKA! FLOCKA!

FLOCKA!)

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