"Who Got The Domo" lyrics
Baow, baow, baow
Melly the 'ooter, he blazin' for Peter
Step back with the ball, he a cheater
How many times we done threw on the Kreepers?
Can't leave 'til he hit, ain't no shit you could teach us
.38 special, it won't leave a shell
Don't try to run, bullets hotter than hell
If shit gettin' sticky, I call up the L
Me and Tyson too deep, we gave Pop Rolla belt
It's one in the head, I don't gotta cock it
Up with two hands on a Makk' then you flock it
Gun didn't click, I had to socket
.32 special, it fit in my pocket
So many vics, but they wanna rap
Pop, we left him flat on his back (Get the fuck up Pop)
Naz, smacked with the back of the cap
Ek shot, he got holes in his back
Why the fuck they keep dissin' my mans?
Every trip on the opps, had em' duckin' the tans (Word to bro)
Why the fuck is they throwin they hands?
I bet they all run when I reach in my pants
Like, like, who got the Damo?
[?] blazin' with me, he gon' follow
Guns clappin', it's not throwin' pollow
Flickin' they wrist made 'em duck from the hollow
KreepK, they keep eating up dick
I got shots for the 4's and the Nick
When I up with the hip, nigga you better dip
Like word to bro had em' duckin' they wig
Bino dead, he got shot in his shit
Q, dead, dumb nigga twitched
Shoutout lil' Melly, lil' bro was a glitch
We was troopin' through Harlem, like Lilo and Stitch
Like, he better move from his bitch
"E-wokk, e-wokk" say it back I'ma flick
He better move from his bitch
"E-wokk, e-wokk" say it back I'ma...
Lee, Fro, they always hit the target
Like, that's why I love 'em the hardest
Yeah I still flick even though I'm an artist
See a Makk', that's on bro we gon' park it (Die Makk)
We in 40, you flickin' they wrist
Fatboy lucky, he a bitch
Like, he saw the G and he dipped
He almost died, how the fuck do they diss?
Melly the 'ooter, he blazin' for Peter
Step back with the ball, he a cheater
How many times we done threw on the Kreepers?
Can't leave 'til he hit, ain't no shit you could teach us
.38 special, it won't leave a shell
Don't try to run, bullets hotter than hell
If shit gettin' sticky, I call up the L
Me and Tyson too deep, we gave Pop Rolla belt
It's one in the head, I don't gotta cock it
Up with two hands on a Makk' then you flock it
Gun didn't click, I had to socket
.32 special, it fit in my pocket
So many vics, but they wanna rap
Pop, we left him flat on his back (Beat the shit out that nigga)
Naz, smacked with the back of the cap
Ek shot, he got holes in his back (Get the fuck up Ek)
Melly the 'ooter, he blazin' for Peter
Step back with the ball, he a cheater
How many times we done threw on the Kreepers?
Can't leave 'til he hit, ain't no shit you could teach us
.38 special, it won't leave a shell
Don't try to run, bullets hotter than hell
If shit gettin' sticky, I call up the L
Me and Tyson too deep, we gave Pop Rolla belt
It's one in the head, I don't gotta cock it
Up with two hands on a Makk' then you flock it
Gun didn't click, I had to socket
.32 special, it fit in my pocket
So many vics, but they wanna rap
Pop, we left him flat on his back (Get the fuck up Pop)
Naz, smacked with the back of the cap
Ek shot, he got holes in his back
Why the fuck they keep dissin' my mans?
Every trip on the opps, had em' duckin' the tans (Word to bro)
Why the fuck is they throwin they hands?
I bet they all run when I reach in my pants
Like, like, who got the Damo?
[?] blazin' with me, he gon' follow
Guns clappin', it's not throwin' pollow
Flickin' they wrist made 'em duck from the hollow
KreepK, they keep eating up dick
I got shots for the 4's and the Nick
When I up with the hip, nigga you better dip
Like word to bro had em' duckin' they wig
Bino dead, he got shot in his shit
Q, dead, dumb nigga twitched
Shoutout lil' Melly, lil' bro was a glitch
We was troopin' through Harlem, like Lilo and Stitch
Like, he better move from his bitch
"E-wokk, e-wokk" say it back I'ma flick
He better move from his bitch
"E-wokk, e-wokk" say it back I'ma...
Lee, Fro, they always hit the target
Like, that's why I love 'em the hardest
Yeah I still flick even though I'm an artist
See a Makk', that's on bro we gon' park it (Die Makk)
We in 40, you flickin' they wrist
Fatboy lucky, he a bitch
Like, he saw the G and he dipped
He almost died, how the fuck do they diss?
Melly the 'ooter, he blazin' for Peter
Step back with the ball, he a cheater
How many times we done threw on the Kreepers?
Can't leave 'til he hit, ain't no shit you could teach us
.38 special, it won't leave a shell
Don't try to run, bullets hotter than hell
If shit gettin' sticky, I call up the L
Me and Tyson too deep, we gave Pop Rolla belt
It's one in the head, I don't gotta cock it
Up with two hands on a Makk' then you flock it
Gun didn't click, I had to socket
.32 special, it fit in my pocket
So many vics, but they wanna rap
Pop, we left him flat on his back (Beat the shit out that nigga)
Naz, smacked with the back of the cap
Ek shot, he got holes in his back (Get the fuck up Ek)
