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Shoreline Mafia - HEAT STICK Lyrics

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Shoreline Mafia - HEAT STICK Lyrics
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[ Featuring Fenix Flexin, OHGEESY ]

(Pull some of that bass out, Bruce)
(D-Diego)

I got thirty bands on me and the bitch up in a headlock
Deadstock kicks and the bitch gon' make the bed rock
Lead hot, nigga trip on me, I bet his head pop
He looked up, all he seen was a red dot
Heat stick, hot stick, ridin' with a mop stick
Ain't goin' back and forth, if it's on, we on our opps quick
Freak bitch toxic, I f*cked her, then I blocked it
Nigga tryna run up on us wrong, we get to knockin'

You ain't choosin', then you losin', baby, get with me
I keep money comin' in and I keep blicky
Get to knockin' on them niggas like the mailman
I failed math class, but ran it up, I got hella bands
Now you see me, now you don't, bitch, I'm John Cena
But we ain't with that wrestlin', you know we pop demons
If we ain't talkin' 'bout some money, then I'm not speakin'
Don't check me, check the bitch 'cause the thot creepin'
We finna get up on they ass, nigga, not even
Boogie down up on they block, now they block bleedin'
I told her, "Swallow, don't you spit it," she got all semen
Her ex-nigga was a nerd, I'm a whole creature
Yeah the chopper hold a broom, that's a street sweeper
He ain't really in that water, he a knee deeper (yeah, yeah)
Yeah lil' brodie tryna crash, he a tweak-tweaker (yeah, yeah)
I need twenty bands cash (yeah, yeah), ain't no free features

As I look at my wrist, it's about that time
But if I look too long, then I might go blind
I got ten bad bitches pullin' up at 9
Should we f*ck at Fenix crib, or should we f*ck at mine?
We gon' split 'em down that middle, I get five, you get five
Then we switch 'em in a little, I get yours, you get mine
I done told you 'bout your bag, I got yours, you got mine
Know we keep them straps, I got forty, you got nine
Ayy, light-skin, dark-skin, vanilla and chocolate
Slim thick, thick slim, I got all the options
Your number one pick ain't even in my top ten
Bitch in the valley, got a bitch off of Slauson
Hop out, walk in, get paid, clock in
Open their mouth while I put my cock in
I ain't turnin' down shit, I'm on nonsense
Grew up on Western, I was born on Bronson

I got thirty bands on me and the bitch up in a headlock
Deadstock kicks and the bitch gon' make the bed rock
Lead hot, nigga trip on me, I bet his head pop
He looked up, all he seen was a red dot
Heat stick, hot stick, ridin' with a mop stick
Ain't goin' back and forth, if it's on, we on our opps quick
Freak bitch toxic, I f*cked her, then I blocked it
Nigga tryna run up on us wrong, we get to knockin'
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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English

(Pull some of that bass out, Bruce)
(D-Diego)

I got thirty bands on me and the bitch up in a headlock
Deadstock kicks and the bitch gon' make the bed rock
Lead hot, nigga trip on me, I bet his head pop
He looked up, all he seen was a red dot
Heat stick, hot stick, ridin' with a mop stick
Ain't goin' back and forth, if it's on, we on our opps quick
Freak bitch toxic, I f*cked her, then I blocked it
Nigga tryna run up on us wrong, we get to knockin'

You ain't choosin', then you losin', baby, get with me
I keep money comin' in and I keep blicky
Get to knockin' on them niggas like the mailman
I failed math class, but ran it up, I got hella bands
Now you see me, now you don't, bitch, I'm John Cena
But we ain't with that wrestlin', you know we pop demons
If we ain't talkin' 'bout some money, then I'm not speakin'
Don't check me, check the bitch 'cause the thot creepin'
We finna get up on they ass, nigga, not even
Boogie down up on they block, now they block bleedin'
I told her, "Swallow, don't you spit it," she got all semen
Her ex-nigga was a nerd, I'm a whole creature
Yeah the chopper hold a broom, that's a street sweeper
He ain't really in that water, he a knee deeper (yeah, yeah)
Yeah lil' brodie tryna crash, he a tweak-tweaker (yeah, yeah)
I need twenty bands cash (yeah, yeah), ain't no free features

As I look at my wrist, it's about that time
But if I look too long, then I might go blind
I got ten bad bitches pullin' up at 9
Should we f*ck at Fenix crib, or should we f*ck at mine?
We gon' split 'em down that middle, I get five, you get five
Then we switch 'em in a little, I get yours, you get mine
I done told you 'bout your bag, I got yours, you got mine
Know we keep them straps, I got forty, you got nine
Ayy, light-skin, dark-skin, vanilla and chocolate
Slim thick, thick slim, I got all the options
Your number one pick ain't even in my top ten
Bitch in the valley, got a bitch off of Slauson
Hop out, walk in, get paid, clock in
Open their mouth while I put my cock in
I ain't turnin' down shit, I'm on nonsense
Grew up on Western, I was born on Bronson

I got thirty bands on me and the bitch up in a headlock
Deadstock kicks and the bitch gon' make the bed rock
Lead hot, nigga trip on me, I bet his head pop
He looked up, all he seen was a red dot
Heat stick, hot stick, ridin' with a mop stick
Ain't goin' back and forth, if it's on, we on our opps quick
Freak bitch toxic, I f*cked her, then I blocked it
Nigga tryna run up on us wrong, we get to knockin'
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Alejandro Carranza, Bruce L. Johnson, Diego Avendano, Fenix Rypinski
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
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