Klickklack Songtext
von Tum Tum
Klickklack Songtext
They say guns kill people, stupid motherfuckers with guns kill people
And I hang, with stupid motherfuckers
It start to clip, click-clack blucker-bluck
It start to clip, click-clack blucker-bluck
Fo′ niggas in a slab, dressed in black clothes
Filling up the clip, smoke blowing out they nose
Niggas trying to play Zilla, they owe the kid do'
The playa already emotionally fell, for a stripper ho
Oldest trick in the book, but fuck it it still works
Niggas think with they other head, when it come to them skirts
Waiting for Strawberry, to ring the burner celly
Tell us when she ready, and we storming the telly
Patiently waiting, and the cell phone vibrates
Text message received, room 228
Tightened up my gloves, and walked up the stairs
Tell Brown to grab a hoody, so we can cover up that bare
Now y′all know Zilla, bout to really lose his cool
Peeped through the window, this nigga rocking new dues
Kicked in the door, one shot to the ceiling
Then one to the leg, fuck boy where's my bread
Now Strawberry you can go, foxy I'll holla at you later
Get with Double Double, he′ll get you straight on that paper
She leave out the do′, we tie his clown ass up
Nigga in debt with the kid, we gon fuck his bum ass up
Smack passed this nigga cell phone, here's the address for them chippers
Don′t try nothing stupid, them AK's will rip you
And I was willing to go out, like Sylvester in Rocky
Guarantee I′ll pop it, over the bread in my pocket
Disrespect me nigga, I tried to let it slide
Then we pulled up, see 24's on your ride
New jewels on your neck, studs in your ear
Ring is stung, like I can′t make it disappear
Cell phone rings, money there you work fast
Just when I thought, I was bout to smoke your bitch ass
Now I got my bread, I'm chilling I ain't gon kill him
(Fuck it Tum let′s charge these niggas), fuck it Gram kill him
And I hang, with stupid motherfuckers
It start to clip, click-clack blucker-bluck
It start to clip, click-clack blucker-bluck
Fo′ niggas in a slab, dressed in black clothes
Filling up the clip, smoke blowing out they nose
Niggas trying to play Zilla, they owe the kid do'
The playa already emotionally fell, for a stripper ho
Oldest trick in the book, but fuck it it still works
Niggas think with they other head, when it come to them skirts
Waiting for Strawberry, to ring the burner celly
Tell us when she ready, and we storming the telly
Patiently waiting, and the cell phone vibrates
Text message received, room 228
Tightened up my gloves, and walked up the stairs
Tell Brown to grab a hoody, so we can cover up that bare
Now y′all know Zilla, bout to really lose his cool
Peeped through the window, this nigga rocking new dues
Kicked in the door, one shot to the ceiling
Then one to the leg, fuck boy where's my bread
Now Strawberry you can go, foxy I'll holla at you later
Get with Double Double, he′ll get you straight on that paper
She leave out the do′, we tie his clown ass up
Nigga in debt with the kid, we gon fuck his bum ass up
Smack passed this nigga cell phone, here's the address for them chippers
Don′t try nothing stupid, them AK's will rip you
And I was willing to go out, like Sylvester in Rocky
Guarantee I′ll pop it, over the bread in my pocket
Disrespect me nigga, I tried to let it slide
Then we pulled up, see 24's on your ride
New jewels on your neck, studs in your ear
Ring is stung, like I can′t make it disappear
Cell phone rings, money there you work fast
Just when I thought, I was bout to smoke your bitch ass
Now I got my bread, I'm chilling I ain't gon kill him
(Fuck it Tum let′s charge these niggas), fuck it Gram kill him
Writer(s): Ronald M Ferebee, Tony Klique Montrez Richardson Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com