"Striked The Scat" lyrics
Jace! Lyrics
Ayy, ayy, go, go (Brr, brr)
Go, go, go, brr, brr, brr (Real Murda Worth shit)
Bitch, how I'm comin', how I'm rockin'
Uh, turnt up, turnt up
Flyin', lil' bro striked the Scat'
Ridin', shells make his ass get back
Slidin', we on his head like a tack
Micro Drac' so that bitch fit in the bookbag
It's so much money, she like how I took that
Fillet Mignon, we upped the iron and cooked his ass
Ridin' with a brand new chop', ninety-percent that bitch stolen
At the A.T.M, took out a nine
How he flex five racks? That's bogus
I be screamin' out, "Oh, he shot"
And that five-point-seven the coldest
She try to call me Jace!, do a hit, then it's Jason, it's Friday the 13th
Get too much money, I keep movin' crib to crib, they talkin' 'bout murkin' me
Say she love me until she desertin' me
Set 'em up, send that boy up to Mercury
And that bitch she keep lyin' like purgery
I won't cuff but I might let her flirt with me
When I striked the Scat', this Trackhawk back, police get on us, desert the bitch
Ain't no hard feelings when niggas talk smack, we gon' solve it by tryna hurt the bitch
Don't give a fuck 'bout an image, and that choppa on me, it diminish niggas
Bro really got used to spinnin', that A.R. do magic, it's cursin' niggas
Shoot him and don't take it personal
I might go buy my bitch a lil' purse or two
Get high with the bitch, take a Perc' or two
You could pay me in cash, it's preferable
Flyin', lil' bro striked the Scat'
Ridin', shells make his ass get back
Slidin', we on his head like a tack
Micro Drac', so that bitch fit in the bookbag
It's so much money, she like how I took that
Fillet Mignon, we upped the iron and cooked his ass
Ridin' with a brand new chop', ninety-percent that bitch stolen
At the A.T.M, took out a nine
How he flex five racks? That's bogus
I be screamin' out, "Oh, he shot"
And that five-point-seven the coldest
She try to call me Jace!, do a hit, then it's Jason, it's Friday the 13th
Get too much money, I keep movin' crib to crib, they talkin' bout murkin' me
Go, go, go, brr, brr, brr (Real Murda Worth shit)
Bitch, how I'm comin', how I'm rockin'
Uh, turnt up, turnt up
Flyin', lil' bro striked the Scat'
Ridin', shells make his ass get back
Slidin', we on his head like a tack
Micro Drac' so that bitch fit in the bookbag
It's so much money, she like how I took that
Fillet Mignon, we upped the iron and cooked his ass
Ridin' with a brand new chop', ninety-percent that bitch stolen
At the A.T.M, took out a nine
How he flex five racks? That's bogus
I be screamin' out, "Oh, he shot"
And that five-point-seven the coldest
She try to call me Jace!, do a hit, then it's Jason, it's Friday the 13th
Get too much money, I keep movin' crib to crib, they talkin' 'bout murkin' me
Say she love me until she desertin' me
Set 'em up, send that boy up to Mercury
And that bitch she keep lyin' like purgery
I won't cuff but I might let her flirt with me
When I striked the Scat', this Trackhawk back, police get on us, desert the bitch
Ain't no hard feelings when niggas talk smack, we gon' solve it by tryna hurt the bitch
Don't give a fuck 'bout an image, and that choppa on me, it diminish niggas
Bro really got used to spinnin', that A.R. do magic, it's cursin' niggas
Shoot him and don't take it personal
I might go buy my bitch a lil' purse or two
Get high with the bitch, take a Perc' or two
You could pay me in cash, it's preferable
Flyin', lil' bro striked the Scat'
Ridin', shells make his ass get back
Slidin', we on his head like a tack
Micro Drac', so that bitch fit in the bookbag
It's so much money, she like how I took that
Fillet Mignon, we upped the iron and cooked his ass
Ridin' with a brand new chop', ninety-percent that bitch stolen
At the A.T.M, took out a nine
How he flex five racks? That's bogus
I be screamin' out, "Oh, he shot"
And that five-point-seven the coldest
She try to call me Jace!, do a hit, then it's Jason, it's Friday the 13th
Get too much money, I keep movin' crib to crib, they talkin' bout murkin' me
