Chrome Hearts Lyrics

Damn, this shit crazy

They playin me everywhere

Bro, I ain't gon' lie, I knew this shit was gon' happen, I knew it

100K on the first song I dropped, y'all could never do that

We smoked his whole team like where the fuck his crew at

Shot up the whole block, they ain't never shoot back

10K for the watch, 1K for the hat

Yeah, this that Chrome Hearts

How the fuck you pay for her dinner and got no parts

How thе fuck you fat and a fed? Your name Paul Blart

How the fuck I scam 10 phones off of Walmart

It's probably 'cause I'm like that

Don't text your bitch while I hit, she won't write back

Stab a opp with the shank, then take the knife back

Every time I took a L, bitch, I came right back

Your man's begging for a buck, he a broke fuck

Only smoke bumfeet, bitch, I don't smoke Runtz

Bulk packs only, bitch, I'm your plug's plug

Hit a opp with a headshot, that's a one-done

Bro, you is not gon' cop shit, you got no funds

You ain't never shot shit, you got no gun

First, we gon' catch the body then we roll up

Dare yo' ass to rob me, I got the pole tucked

Take his bread, then block 'em, he done got jugged

Sippin' red, with bumfeet in my damn blunt

You got no bread, how you ain't touch a band once?

That shit so pathetic to see

So many opps shot, get a medic on the scene

Scammin' on the VPN, they can't see the IP

Walk up in the club, they ain't tryna see no ID

Walk up in the club and you know I'm bringin' my heat

You be smokin' Reggie, I ain't tryna hit your weed

I be sippin' red lean, man, my cup fucking bleeding

I'm shootin' at your team like Jimmy Butler on the Heat

Draco with triple D's, call me Russ' in '17

How you startin' beef and then you run off on the beef

How he had his heat and still got left up on the street

Plug tryna get me, I done ran off with his P

Why would I pay for it? I'll take your cannabis for free

This dirty bitch smell like a can of fuckin' beans

She could fuck you, but she could never fuck me

It would be a dumb move tryna ever front me

Can't talk about the opps 'cause every single one sleep

Except for a couple, but we gon' get 'em trust me

The Glock finna rumble, you ain't gon' touch me

Put your mans on the ground for his bust down piece

You ain't really on shit, you's a Kutztown freak

Bullets big as hell, they could cut down trees

You ain't never had a smell of this bumfeet weed

You ain't never made a sale, can't talk to me

Call my gun a damn dog, it's gon' walk with me