Lyrics DJ Kay Slay – Got Damn

Gunplay:
3 C’s, 2 M’s: color, cut, clarity — million-dollar marriages
Cut the tape on this motherfucker right here, Gunplay, Drama, Kay

Hey you heard about the home boy?

Empire shell catcher, on this
Daddy long ratchet, only
Hundred-fifty in the can, dusting
Still burning bam, run it down
You short by the gram, you can die about that
Ain’t no lying about that, my dawg
So we going bank beaucoup. I roll 88 acres — zoo crew
Handcuffs like a noose, too
Bitch, I’m black ops — noob tube
Now who wanna run on one then?
Run one gun in?
Left him in one Tim
Fuck you want me to do?
Feeling unbeatable
My wolf pack snapping, looking unfeedable
Get buddy buddy, gonna get bruised, untreatable
I’m on that shit Steven Seagal do

Hey you heard about the home boy?
Yeah got damn, left him with a hole so wide
Yeah got damn
I bet he know how we play now
Yeah got damn
Better lay down and stay down
Yeah got damn, got damn, got damn, got damn, got damn, got damn, got damn
Why they did that boy like that?
Yeah got damn, got damn, got damn, got damn, got damn, got damn, got damn
Why they did that boy like that?

Ace Hood:
Blood, sweat, and tears — Mind over matter
Shitting on you niggas, got a bad bladder
Britain panorama (zoom), my bitch from Atlanta
Sit on daddy lap, yeah, she call me Santa
Dancing in that pussy. Bitch, I think I’m MC Hammer
Touch my paper, bitch, I’m bucking like I’m out of Tampa
Still at it, they say my flow tragic
Fuck them niggas, clean the scene like it was Proactiv
Real niggas, deal with them. Leave a nigga in a box like Tommy Hilfiger
What up, Kay? Give me some of them bad bitches
The ones who like it rough and hard, like them college quizzes
You feel me? You feel me?
Have them bitches coming back, just like a Frisbee
Word up, straight stunting
Bitch, I hit the villa, talking five-hundred

Gunplay:
Hey you heard about the home boy?
Yeah got damn, left him with a hole so wide
Yeah got damn
I bet he know how we play now
Yeah got damn
Better lay down and stay down
Yeah got damn, got damn, got damn, got damn, got damn, got damn, got damn
Why they did that boy like that?
Yeah got damn, got damn, got damn, got damn, got damn, got damn, got damn
Why they did that boy like that?

Torch:
AK, AR, hollow-tip accessible, run up in your vestibule
Dodge you like a decibel, leave your ass a vegetable
Beefing, now you a side dish
I ain’t a chef but I mastered how to fry fish
When digits stacking, kidding turn into kidnapping
I know the pigs tapping, so we convo Pig Latin
Feds following me like I’m playing Simon Says
Bishop… niggas ’til the Drama dead
I’m with the drama king, you know how drama do it
Like sheets on the spot, next stop trauma unit
Head buster, leader of the military
Bread like Pillsbury, I ain’t never been scary
Street sweepers, three divas, straight stunting
When money ain’t nothing, of course they fucking
No strings, I control you ― puppetmaster
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