Tyga — Сhi Raq to L.A. (feat. The Game) текст песни (слова) lyrics

[Intro:]
187

[Verse 1: Tyga]
Know some Hoover niggas that’s down to ride
For a homicide, when its drama time
Ni*gas thinkin’ that they MCs
Can’t get touched, well its hammer time

Who the f*ck is Lil Durk?
I dust you like ash and purp
Your flow wack, my flow crack
Got marble floors, your floors crack

Got rap sh*t, mice traps
These ni*gas broke, need ankle wraps
Don’t ride around in LA, if you ain’t come on Jet with the strap
My nig*as 52 Orange roofs, orange coupes, Ciroc orange juice

Trel said f*ck all you, my OG Chimp out soon
H rat, shout out ScHoolboy Q, still my dog
You’re a real one, I owe you
Shot at them nig*as when you heard the news

If your daughter ever need something, don’t hesitate I got you
Posted up on sunset at the House Of Blues like it’s all cool
Might get trapped in Vegas too, call Mally Mall he with Big U
I might be in Bel Air, still got ni*gas in the field

20 million, LK real
With Yeezus in that SLR
T Raw upper echelon
No Lil Jets just G5’s
Free CB, H Rat

Lil Punch and baby Nitty
My Maybach cost 2 chickens, you ain’t got one?
Don’t talk my language
I’m king sh*tting on yo b*tch

Southpaw and we in the gym
Tryna be a baller? End up like Flip in «Above The Rim»
You too small like Smeagol
I’m swatting the mosquito

I’ll put you under the earth now it’s a garden on your tombstone
You sh*t stain teenagers, barely teething on hundos
I’ll hold you like the slave you are, all my whips mayo
You from Illinois? I’ll bring the noise

You ain’t platinum? Don’t talk to me. Grammy nominated? Don’t talk to me
20 Million? Don’t talk to me
It’s levels to this shit boy, you basement, Don’t talk to me
You want the fame? I’ll take your name and that weak bitch you fall asleep with!

[Verse 2: The Game]
Ain’t got no time for this rap sh*t, Blood Money, Cash Money
Ain’t got no time for this rap sh*t, Cash Money, Blood Money
Ain’t got no time for this rap sh*t, rap money, drug money
I’m straight nigga, straightjacket!

Yo Trel let a nigga hit him with a ratchet
Big U let a nig*a get some matches
I’ma torch the building this La Familia
Pull up and spin a ni*ga backwards

Light it up, smoke a ni*ga like a Backwood
(Gotta channel DMX)
Coming through with my dogs (grrrrrr)
That chopper going through walls

This beef sh*t? That’s me sh*t. Pull up bangin’ that Meek sh*t
That monster truck pull up side of that Benz?
(Nig*as ain’t saying nothin’)
Choppers aimed at yo whip, nig*a!

(Ni*gas ain’t saying nothin’)
Cash Money, Family Hustle like Tip, nig*a!
(Ni*gas ain’t saying nothin’)
Come through, few Bloods, few Crips, nig*a!
(Ni*gas ain’t saying nothin’)
T Raw? I got you, don’t trip, ni*ga!

First off lemme go on 40 Glocc again
Talk about my kids on Instagram?
Ni*ga must wanna get his a*s socked again!
Tell a lie like I pulled out a Glock on him

Don’t make me resurrect Pac again!
You ScHoolboy like Kendrick and Top and them
Have a b*tch ni*ga running to the cops again
It’s all Gucci Mane, Waka Flock and them

(Green Light)
That mean go ni*ga, if you ever see this
Ho ni*ga, on mama nig*a it’s a
(Green Light)
From where my nig*a died to Riverside
Even your ni*gas know it’s a
(Green Light)

Better run through the red ones, f*ck around and be a dead one
(Jump in the middle of beef, cause I don’t like no one)
(Step behind these bars and I don’t write not one)
(Nig*as bumping they lips but they don’t like no guns)

(Just close your eyes and that light gon’ come)
I don’t f*ck with no new nig*as, they like to sue, no woo ni*ga
Tyga hit me like «Durk dissing»
Dirk Nowitzki? Dirk who ni*ga?

Never heard of these ni*gas
Some of the nerve of these nig*as
Don’t make me put on burgundy nig*a
Let the AK *gunshots* I’m serving these ni*gas

Yo T raw, time to murder these ni*gas
Black suburban these ni*gas
I’m taking b*tches, I’m taking chains, yeah
I’m Young Bergin’ these ni*gas

Ain’t start making guns when they made you ni*ga
Ain’t no JayHawk but I’ll K you nig*a
And I know Hoovers, I know 60s
(I know Westside Pirus, ni*gas down to die too)

Move in on them 50s
(I got nig*as on west and the Southside of Chi too)
Pull up in an 87 Cutlass
Throwing bullets like Jay Cutler

F*ck this. What’s this? Ni*gas talking all that f*ck sh*t
Tough shit. Put a ni*ga on like Trukfit
I know Lil Wayne, I know Lil Reese
I know Lil Herb, I know Lil Keef

I know Lil Boosie, that ni*ga free like this a*s whooping
Come f*ck with me, I got hands, I got bands
Got damn I am what I am
.45 go blam with no jam

Bring a ni*ga Vietnam, let’s go ham
Nig*as runnin’ out of ham, let’s go spam
Ni*ga dip through your set like Killa Cam
I’m talkin’ to the man, with no fans

This is a DM with no gram
Ridin’ through the Chi, ain’t ever seen Oprah
Hit a 300 with my little ni*ga Sosa
Brown paper bag, sippin’ on a Four Loko

Ni*ga get love, I ain’t talkin’ ’bout The Notebook
Ni*gas got killers out here, west side, they feel us out here
Like Weezel and Chicago, realest out here
Old man and the capitol hill is out here

On the low end, all my BD ni*gas bring the dope in
BD twins locked up in the feds and my ni*ga Bump J, hold your head
If you getting money ni*ga hold your bread
Rock my Pelle P like LED, them Bogus Boys? They F*ck with me

I f*ck with stones till I OD’
69, Seven Deuce
Marshalville I mean Murderville
Yellow G, gave me a b*tch off of Damen Ave I use her to kill
She from the Chi, but she ain’t shy

She ain’t never met a ni*ga who can’t die
I’m so Southside I’m so Northside
I’m so Westside, nig*a «Ain’t I?»
Got more ni*gas in the Chi than Jay

(Chi than Jay)
I might be more Chi Town than Ye’
(Chi Town than Ye’)
I’m on the low end with my nig*a Par K)
(with my ni*ga Par K)

And he A GD, but it’s free Bump J
4CH but I’m like Barksdale in this Shark Tale
OG like a car sale
Chopper spins, you do cartwheels

Lil Durk under a lil dirt
(And nobody knows you)
Dis ain’t what they want!
(Nobody knows you)

(Bitch I thought that was Future’s song!)
(I’m bout to show you)
You done caught yourself a Little L dog
(Man nobody knows you)
You heard of Lil Durk?
Nig*a, hell nah!

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