"Die Tonight" lyrics
Yeah, yeah!
What up, son?
Oh, word?
You fucking with her, right?
Uh, that bitch is crazy, B
She do anything, nigga
That bitch eat cookies in the bed and all that shit, man
Be careful, man – word up, man
Alright?
Hold it down, hold it down, one
So when it's over, we demanding our weapons
Stop, cock, shoot – now I'm in the ghost of perfections
Smooth Willie chilling with his Spartans
Fart in front of your bitch, squeeze her tits, move aside, pardon
Paid niggas don't talk, just straight to the bar
Buy the whole shit out, then light up a bark
Colorful kings, wardrobes is different from yours
You don't want no beef, better take it to Moe's
Put the drink on the side and say "What?"
My mans with the turban on mouth froze, y'all niggas is fucked
He was my son out of Gun Hill, I know him through Tec
If it's the last thing we do we gon' get at his neck
Bartender give me the check, keep him right here, I'll be back
Now everybody knowing I'm connected
Hopped in a 7, left 57 of my wolves
This is personal... niggas don't fret
Ay yo
One more man gon' die tonight
One more hand gon' ride tonight
If it's a M on the table I'm down
Yo, don't be yapping off at the mouth
When niggas don't see dude around
We in Kentucky Fried, lucky guy
Him and his kid
From the first, bite a bullet woulda flew through his wig
Be smooth, chill, wait for the kids
Older nigga not that stupid to see the gun on his rib
Fuck it, catch him by the crib
Yo, he live with his wiz
She the bow-legged stripper bitch we fingered in Liv
For a buck, she would guzzle your kids
And let you kick a tall-boy Heineken up in the shit
This wack-ass nigga fronting, yap about bids
Behind the walls, niggas pissed on him, gave him the biz
Just a tough guy fronting 'cause he famous and shit
Back in '89, baby crimes, rape and some shit
We should have killed him then
He dusted, look at his bib
I should have milked him right there and then
Fuck it, son, yo, guzzle the gin
Let's make the movie occur
To blow up in a Spur, yelling win
What up, son?
Oh, word?
You fucking with her, right?
Uh, that bitch is crazy, B
She do anything, nigga
That bitch eat cookies in the bed and all that shit, man
Be careful, man – word up, man
Alright?
Hold it down, hold it down, one
So when it's over, we demanding our weapons
Stop, cock, shoot – now I'm in the ghost of perfections
Smooth Willie chilling with his Spartans
Fart in front of your bitch, squeeze her tits, move aside, pardon
Paid niggas don't talk, just straight to the bar
Buy the whole shit out, then light up a bark
Colorful kings, wardrobes is different from yours
You don't want no beef, better take it to Moe's
Put the drink on the side and say "What?"
My mans with the turban on mouth froze, y'all niggas is fucked
He was my son out of Gun Hill, I know him through Tec
If it's the last thing we do we gon' get at his neck
Bartender give me the check, keep him right here, I'll be back
Now everybody knowing I'm connected
Hopped in a 7, left 57 of my wolves
This is personal... niggas don't fret
Ay yo
One more man gon' die tonight
One more hand gon' ride tonight
If it's a M on the table I'm down
Yo, don't be yapping off at the mouth
When niggas don't see dude around
We in Kentucky Fried, lucky guy
Him and his kid
From the first, bite a bullet woulda flew through his wig
Be smooth, chill, wait for the kids
Older nigga not that stupid to see the gun on his rib
Fuck it, catch him by the crib
Yo, he live with his wiz
She the bow-legged stripper bitch we fingered in Liv
For a buck, she would guzzle your kids
And let you kick a tall-boy Heineken up in the shit
This wack-ass nigga fronting, yap about bids
Behind the walls, niggas pissed on him, gave him the biz
Just a tough guy fronting 'cause he famous and shit
Back in '89, baby crimes, rape and some shit
We should have killed him then
He dusted, look at his bib
I should have milked him right there and then
Fuck it, son, yo, guzzle the gin
Let's make the movie occur
To blow up in a Spur, yelling win
