VM Trxuble - BULLETS (feat. Velvet Shaga & QUI$3COLD) Lyrics

Ahh, shit, nigga, this sound like that trouble season shit, brother
That trouble season shit, you feel me
What you mean about that trouble season, nigga
Something like, something like, you know, bullets coming, yeah, you running

Some shit like that
Something like, something like
Bullets coming, yeah, you running, talk that shit, my choppa humming
Who the f*ck you think you son'n

Kentrell looking, yeah, you young'n, bust your f*cking shawty open
Had your baby mother soaking, met your granny, got to stroking
Met your sister, got to poking
At the light, I caught him loafing

Super soaker, left him soaking
Batman, so you must be joking
Murder man, I'm always toting
Outrun run a switch, hoe what you smoking

Blue presidents, I'm always voting
Escape alive, I know you hoping
Murder man, leaving faces open
Father God, forgive me for I holy smoke em

Bodies stinking in the street, walk by and it got you choking
I don't really like when I catch y'all pussy niggas loafing
Rather have a shootout broad day and leave the body soaking
Bullets coming, yeah, you running, talk that shit, my choppa humming

Who the f*ck you think you son'n
Kentrell looking, yeah, you young'n, bust your f*cking shawty open
Had your baby mother soaking
Met your granny, got to stroking

Met your sister, got to poking
Bullets coming, now he running like he Usain Bolt
Them niggas with me, they with all of that and yes, they tote
Dead bodies, yeah, they rot

It ain't shit to get you got
Do you smell what I'm cooking
Three cold, I'm not the rock
Oh, he at the party

It's the weekend, pull up with them dracs
Kyrie Irving, I can't shake him
I don't need no bake
I ain't Kanye

How sway I want to heat his face
Time up, put him in a box, nigga, heat lace
Bullets coming, yeah, you running, talk that shit, my choppa humming
Who the f*ck you think you son'n

Kentrell looking, yeah, you young'n , bust your f*cking shawty open
Had your baby mother soaking
Met your granny, got to stroking
Met your sister, got to poking

Bullets hit em
Made a nigga do the Chris Brown
Stomp the yard
I'll turn Columbus finna, shoot him down

Knock him down
Turn a nigga to some dominoes
Niggas want war with no bread
Niggas, dominoes, I keep the strap on me like a front seat passenger

Ain't no drive-bys, I'm walking down
Nigga, mask up
T-shirts, face painted
Had these, niggas capped up

Turn the, body's cold
Send these niggas to Alaska
Bullets coming, yeah, you running, talk that shit, my choppa humming
Who the f*ck you think you son'n

Kentrell looking, yeah, you young'n, bust your f*cking shawty open
Had your baby mother soaking
Met your granny, got to stroking
Met your sister, got to poking

Hey, you know what it is
Velvet money, mafia shit, nigga
That boy was always in trouble
Gang