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Sewed Up

Q da Fool
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Lyrics

Zaytoven What's up Zay? Uh, this how niggas live and shit I just be tellin' what niggas be goin' through I got a real low number on some pure weight The feds out early so we movin' late Thirty bands on the lawyer, I went through a case And them Glocks, they paranoia, they go through your face These niggas ran out on a foil, all they jewelry fake And I wore it to counter, bitch you can't be late When that .223 hit, got you amputated These rappers fakin', man these niggas livin' in they imagination If you a rat, must get exterminated I'm strapped up like the Terminator Bitch said she never fucked Fuck her, you'll be burnin' later Dirty bitches, I don't want 'em I'm only worried 'bout the paper Bitch see you later Sip tips like you a waiter Thirty bullet count, not one get wasted We throwin' it up We got all the gats and the guns All this weight on my back, man it feel like a ton I'm twenty years old with two sons If you the gang, we gon' hunt We done bought our son the run Bullets eat him like he lunch Shooters posted in the back and the front Cook a lot of yola Can't serve it if I do not know ya Know the game sick, ebola I'm workin' like a motor Uh, sewed up I got it sewed up I make the chop blow up I got the streets sewed up I make the trap blow up Heron blow your arms up I just picked a bomb up Might as well get you, need to get you one Get you one and flip you one Money come, decisions come Should I spray him, should I kill him? Man I'ma kill him That nigga done Put that bread on his head, that nigga done I can finesse the panties off a nun I might finesse a nigga just for nothin' Street sewed up from the suburbs to the slums Dig in her throat, watch the bitch hum Law roll where I'm from 'Fore I leave the house, bitch I load the drum You ain't tryna get no money, you a bum We throwin' it up We got all the gats and the guns All this weight on my back, man it feel like a ton I'm twenty years old with two sons If you the gang, we gon' hunt We done bought our son the run Bullets eat him like he lunch Shooters posted in the back and the front Cook a lot of yola Can't serve it if I do not know ya Know the game sick, ebola I'm workin' like a motor Uh, sewed up I got it sewed up I make the chop blow up I got the streets sewed up