Video Live Corn » 67 Lyrics | Musica Lyrics

67 - Live Corn Lyrics

Live Corn

Live corn in my gun
F*** with the 6 get bun
No point tryna run
M got the Mac and it's sounding like a drum
Tryna lock the whole city
Only real niggas f*** with me
Shout my niggas from the 86
But 674 run Brikky
I don't rap cause I'm tryna get a deal
I'm still out here tryna eat a meal
I've spent whole nights lurking in the field
Ask them other niggas, they know how shit feels
Bare skrr skrr, I feel it through the wheels
3 litre ding-dong skidding round the hill
Swammy on deck and we're lurking for a kill
If suttin get got I know my niggas won't squeal

Say they want war ni***
So I roll around with that 4s ni***
Screaming 67k?
Ima smoke your ass to a 4 ni***
M rolled up and he's buzzing
Screaming out 'if he's an opp then we bun him'
We ain't RB we don't know about running
I said ni*** we don't know about running

I'm still slanging these O's, running through hoes
I don't do friends cause I bang with my bros
Phoned G said that he's bagging with Slows
Told him bring a coke can I'm a let it explode
67 over everything
Break packs, double up, bring weapons in
Look, till suttin dead we ain't settling
If he's running with the opps, man'll pepper him
True, I ain't running with no jokeman
He held it in his face when I smoked man
20-suttin times when I soak man
If you claim 15 you're a jokeman
I ain't never been friends with them pagans
You can hold shots too if you're Leyton
Big Steezy been writing some statements
Tryna lock a real ni*** in the cages
I hit a ni*** in his face
My ni*** hit a ni*** in his back
Tryna score every time that we ride
Someone tell these motherfuck*** 'don't lack'
I was in the party flexing with a yat
They know I had a suttin in my bag
I was drunk off the yak
Opps never came though cause they knew they're getting slapped
They had a real ni*** locked in the cage
I rolled a burn while I thought about my case
Like, 'how that ni*** snitch?'
Who am I kidding man, than ni*** from the Brix
I was outside tryna get rich
Tryna put 65 bags on my wrist
'Til these damn jakes put cuffs on my wrists
Had me locked down in Wandsworth feeling like shit
Niggas screaming '674 stabbed this, and 674 corned that'
I'm like 'bitch niggas get off our dick'
674's tryna get rich in those traps
I was up in Thameside reasoning with facts
No amnes' had me stressing out my plaques
Niggas owe p's then they better run it back
Feds kicking in doors and we're tryna get back
Link SJ, everything blessed
He buss me with the loud amnes' for my chest
I remember nights I was in there with the Tec
Tweeting all my niggas 'I'll be home in a sec'
Skinny motherfuc*** but I'm bigging up my chest
When they see me out on freeflow niggas show respect
Like they know all the fuckries I kept up
All that knifework and show 'em what the skeng does

Live corn in my gun
F*** with the 6 get bun
No point tryna run
M got the Mac and it's sounding like a drum
Tryna lock the whole city
Only real niggas f*** with me
Shout my niggas from the 86
But 674 run Brikky
I don't rap cause I'm tryna get a deal
I'm still out here tryna eat a meal
I've spent whole nights lurking in the field
Ask them other niggas, they know how shit feels
Bare skrr skrr, I feel it through the wheels
3 litre ding-dong skidding round the hill
Swammy on deck and we're lurking for a kill
If suttin get got I know my niggas won't squeal