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      New York Shit

      New York Shit

      Sheek Louch

      Escuchar lo mejor de la musica de Sheek Louch

      Sheek Louch - New York Shit Música y Letra

      [Intro: Sheek Louch]
      Hahaha
      Ah, man
      
      [Verse 1: Sheek Louch]
      I got a nine on my waistline
      I ain't thinkin’ 'bout you bitch ass niggas no more
      You could help a nigga out, he gon' still talk shit
      And turn around and want more
      I ain’t thinkin' 'bout you (Get the fuck up out my face)
      I ain't thinkin' 'bout you (When the last time we talked?)
      I ain't thinkin' ’bout you (Nah, I ain’t need your number)
      I ain't thinkin’ 'bout you (Monkeys out, nigga)
      No more
      Fuck around and get hit up (Facts)
      Mom prayin' like, "Please, baby, get up" (Get up [?])
      Niggas see your wounds, turn around and spit up
      I ain't playin’, Donnie came to fuck shot up, shyeah
      This is that raw shit, New York
      Winter time in front of the store, shit
      Burnin' my weed with a stashbox real close (What up, nigga?)
      Ear to the street, my lyrics, you could feel a pulse (Feel a pulse)
      Put your glass up, let's have a toast (Salute)
      Twenty years in this game, me, Kiss, and Ghost (L-O-X)
      We stay away from them corny rappers that do the most
      Gangstas, our careers ain't even close (Shyeah)
      
      [Chorus: Sheek Louch]
      Don't make me bust you, nigga
      Grew up together but I don't trust you, nigga
      You let your feelings out when you drunk
      Beef come, you run and hide like a fuckin' punk, shyeah
      Top of the mornin', gun in her mouth while your bitch breath stinkin' and yawnin'
      I had to talk to my young boy before he get life
      Watch these left niggas 'cause they ain't right
      
      [Verse 2: Havoc]
      Word, that's the same shit that I was sayin'
      Gotta watch these niggas how these niggas be anglin'
      Make 'em see stars so I start banglin'
      Abduct these cowards out like they got ganged in
      I said fuck me, I feel the same then
      Talk behind my back and when you see me, wanna make friends
      Fake type dudes, no love, no loyalties
      'Spect us when you see us, this hip-hop royalty (Hip-hop royalty)
      The crown secure and I got a tip (Word)
      With the clips filled, the wrong word'll get you killed
      Q.B. reppin', ain't a thing changed
      Grown man, see y'all niggas out playin' kid games
      Twenty-twenty comin', things realer than it ever been
      People co-signin' shit y'all peddlin'?
      Me and Sheek on a whole other wavelength
      On point with it, let them other nigga stay [?]
      
      [Chorus: Sheek Louch]
      Don't make me bust you, nigga
      Grew up together but I don't trust you, nigga
      You let your feelings out when you drunk
      Beef come, you run and hide like a fuckin' punk, shyeah
      Top of the mornin', gun in her mouth while your bitch breath stinkin' and yawnin'
      I had to talk to my young boy before he get life
      Watch these left niggas 'cause they ain't right
      
      [Verse 3: Fat Joe]
      Yeah, still keep guns in the panel
      Shot him through his flannel out the pocket of my Louis camo
      Niggas say what's up but can't stand you
      We call 'em New York undercovers, them nigga's done been cancelled
      You know me, a little Wraith, a hot bitch
      Pharrell Chanel slides, I'm bumpin' that Pac shit
      My daughter seen a squirrel, said, "Look, dad, a chinchilla"
      Up in the Bronx, born killers, we been realer (Been realer)
      I catch a body like that nigga shotty
      Run up in your lobby with the mini shotty, body everybody
      Black turtleneck, black [?]
      Had to get me on the tax, Joe Crack's the black Gotti
      I pop shit 'cause they can't stop me
      Who, him? He can't rob me
      Your bitch a damn thotti
      You know these raps, they be physical
      You could feel it though
      I know they said it, but he live it though
      
      [Chorus: Sheek Louch]
      Don't make me bust you, nigga
      Grew up together but I don't trust you, nigga
      You let your feelings out when you drunk
      Beef come, you run and hide like a fuckin' punk, shyeah
      Top of the mornin', gun in her mouth while your bitch breath stinkin' and yawnin'
      I had to talk to my young boy before he get life
      Watch these left niggas 'cause they ain't right

      Sheek Louch - New York Shit Música y Letra

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