Matikář - naučíme matematiku. Každého.
Betano.cz - nová česká sázková kancelář

Why Try (S.A.S)

You know, yeah S.A.S., Streets All Salute, JR Writer Dutch Beetz, yeah We the BeeGees I've been patient fam Stuck in this crazy land Where men'll lick your head off your shoulders so they could make a grand Mayhem: No snitchin', naw, I'm 'bout to take a stand My chopper gets to spit and you fakin', it's finna make da band No safety, blow like it's A.C. Call me bird's-eye, you heard why, I make P's I'm about the wealth So I need a Range Rover that's named after a book that's about myself And it's over doja When I flip and put the razors to your face I ain't talkin' 'bout a Motorola Big stings, no you won't clap back at us I'll have your whole strip runnin' like they tryna catch a bus Oh, you sellin' drugs You can get your melon slugged Then get swept off of your feet like you fell in love I can fight but the guns preferred We them Dipset Thunderbirds, now watch me rain on 'em Why try, you're gonna die I pull up in a drop with the pistol cocked When I pop, I'm wavin' bye-bye You don't drive-by, all you do is drive by They call us Byrdgang, you heard fam We fly high (2x) My, my, I'm sky high, a fly guy Pull up to your bitch, and skate wit' a whip from space, I'm talkin' sci-fi Why try to out-do me, I doubt truly Listen, J is a ape, so stay in your place, I ain't never been a slouch scooby Listen, you're not as sharp, I'm getting' that gwap to start (ch-ching) You ain't seen bigger M's since the McDonald's are These gangstas pop your heart in front of your bitch Then turn and look at her like "Who you coming with miss" You're my son, get the drift So right now I'll be dissing myself if I called you a son of a bitch (Oh) Give it up for the Dips (Why) Cuz it seems so simple (What) That I'm so sick like a NE-YO single I will blast 'em, leave 'em in a casket box Sleepin' with the saddest ock for leapin' like a astronaut Keep the Techs sucka So I don't care if your pops married my mother I dare you to step brother Why try, you're gonna die I pull up in a drop with the pistol cocked When I pop, I'm wavin' bye-bye You don't drive-by, all you do is drive by They call us Byrdgang, you heard fam We fly high (2x)