Torch (Triple C) - God Damn lyrics

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Torch (Triple C) - God Damn lyrics

[Hook] Hey you heard about home boy Yea, God damn Left him with a house on why Yea, God damn I bet he know how we play now Yea, God damn Better lay down and stay down Yea, God damn God damn [6x] Why they did that boy like that God damn Why they did that boy like that God damn [Verse 1 - Gunplay] Umpire show catcher, O miss Dirty long ratchet, on lap Hundred fifteen in the can Dusty, still but it bam But it bam You short by the gram You can die about that Ain't no lyin' about that My dog, so we go bang Buku Hello, 88 apes, ZOO CREW Handcuffs like a noose too b**h I'm black ops, noob tube Now who wanna run one in Won one done in Left with ten one ten f** you want me to do Feelin' unbeatable My wolf pack snappin', lookin' unfeedable Get buddy, but he gon' get bruised, untreatable I'm on that sh** Steven Seagal do You know what I'm trialed all the way The junkie tried it, man he died on the way All that damn meat and mine on the way You trap but you won't trap down all the way [Hook] [Verse 2 - Ace Hood] Blood, sweat and tears Mind over matter sh**tin on you n***as, got a bad bladder Brand new panorama (zoom), my b**h from Atlanta Sit on daddy lap, yeah she call me Santa Dancin' in that p**y b**h I think I'm MC Hammer Touch my paper b**h, I'm buckin' like I'm out of Tampa Steel ladder, they say my flow tragic But them n***as criticing like it was pro rappin' Real n***a Deal with him Leave a n***a in a box like Tommy Hilfiger Put up K (put up K) Give me some of them bad b**hes The ones who like 'it rough and hard like them college quizzes You feel me (You feel me) You feel me (You feel me) Bad old b**hes throw me back just like a Frisbee Word up (word up) Straight stuntin' b**h I hit the biller take the five hundred [Hook] [Verse 3 - Torch] AK, AR, hollow tip accessory Run up in your vestibule, dodge you like a decibel Leave your a** a vegetable Beefin', now you a side dish I ain't a chef but I mastered how to fry fish When digits stackin, Kiddin' turned to kidnappin' I know the pigs tap us so we convo pig latin Feds following me like I'm playing Simon Says Bishop then ride a maze, n***a till the trauma dead I'm with the drama kit You know I drama do it right Sheets on the spot, next stop trauma unit Head bussa, meet her at a military Brand like bills but he never ain't a b**h scared Street sweepers, three divas, straight stuntin' When money ain't lackin', of course they f**in' No strings, I control her, puppet master Molar, stolen plaster, go get my money faster [Hook]