Sha Gz – Talk My Shit Pt 3 Lyrics

Talk My Shit Pt 3 Lyrics – Sha Gz

Like, we smoke Berry, nigga dead
When I bend through, I just wanna see red
Creep any block, put the beam on his head
Lil Nazzy got clapped, [?] like a dead
And they know, bitch I’m back with the dreads
Slide through the Sev, tryna knock off his head
Hop, hop out, he fled
Dougie got shot, he was yelling “My leg”
Oh shit, Tank got me laced
Naz got flocked, nigga fell on his face
Nigga what, everything K
Everything dead, we gon’ do him like Blay
I’m with Ace, Fuck 3rd side, we gon’ shoot through their gates
Grrah-grrah, we don’t play, I bet you he run when that beam on his face, ain’t no cap
C Blu really gay, he a faggot
I can’t wait till I see him in traffic
Everything shot, if he yelling, “What’s cracking”
Nas EBK, he got robbed for his jacket
Set Da Trend, niggas fucking your mother
And I heard you did bad in the summer
Free gang, free Butta
Blow In the spot, ask what happened to Thunder
They like, “Sha you be buggin’ and shit”, like
“Why they be running and shit”
Like, and them niggas ain’t never do shit
Fuck is a Munna, we gon’ spit on that bitch
Ayo TG, eat a dick
Word to my dead, when I see you it’s lit
Nigga Kenzo, steady tryna diss
Niggas be lookin’ dirty in they flick
(Suck my dick, suck my dick)
Grrah, grrah (Grrah)

We shoot Dixe
Ty Benji, got caught at the light
It’s on sight
RB got shot in the night, send a kite
Told bro, “Just send me the price”
Hit ’em twice, he got shot in his head tryna fight
He was tight, and I keep me a pole, so run up on me, we gon’ do him like Rite
On the Sev, late night wit’ my pipe
Like, i see an opp, I get hype
I’on care about no cops, they get hit too
Lil Roy, throw five at the rental
Pop me a perc, but no, I ain’t mental
Move-Look got hit in his taco
Grrah, grrah, grrah
Don’t touch me
JayRipK got hit wit’ like plenty
If I see Kay, he get hit with that Becky
Twin chops in the back of the Bentley
Swervo, me and [?] two Glocks, and we purge ’em
Catch me a rip from the Rey, I’ma burn ’em
Wan Billz, he was down, he was lackin’
OYK, we don’t play for the Mavericks
Smoke Tank, who want static?
Pop out, .32 let ’em have it
Me and [?] in the field, ‘causing tragic

Smoking Nas EBK mother
Sha Ek father
Nigga, suck my dick, nigga
Every opp shot
And I’m smoking, Set Da Trend father
EBS, nigga

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