Burnin Lyrics – Chris Rivers
Singer: Chris Rivers
Title: Burnin
A hundred on the highway, smelling tire smoke
A hundred of them packets, that’s the reason why it’s low
f#cking up the kitchen till the pot is broke
Whippin up that’s a different stroak
f#ck up out your feelings, that’s a different flow
Out to get a million, f#ck me living broke
Lay a n#gg# out, you bet he getting smoked
Hit him in the head, bet he
Everytime that I come up, and I leave a n#gg# burnin
Trigger finger itchin, best believe I have it burnin
f#ck it, keep it burnin
f#ck it, keep ’em burnin
Petal to the metal, that’s 200 on the dash
Shotty get to snappin, ick a pose, I let it flash
Kelo after kelo
Package always fresh, I keep that dope inside that conga
I’m out your league, so n#gg# don’t try try try
Or out that egle, when it blows, bye bye bye
Action p#ss# clear the way
Never count it, we just chck the weight
It’s petty killings with the smith
I let it wistle
I get you set up, my b#tches will do you sweet
They lure you in, blow you down, raiser right in the cheek
89 vibe, 89 9’s in your south plug
That’s 89 grams mouth slug
The chopper’s like Mike from the line, it got the tongue out
Full clip and it’s out
A hundred on the highway, smelling tire smoke
A hundred of them packets, that’s the reason why it’s low
f#cking up the kitchen till the pot is broke
Whippin up that’s a different stroak
f#ck up out your feelings, that’s a different flow
Out to get a million, f#ck me living broke
Lay a n#gg# out, you bet he getting smoked
Hit him in the head, bet he
Everytime that I come up, and I leave a n#gg# burnin
Trigger finger itchin, best believe I have it burnin
f#ck it, keep it burnin
f#ck it, keep ’em burnin
Hey yo that gunshot, he made it through, but his lung drop
He can’t talk the same no more, must of thought he was 2pac
Yelling out that thug life, riding on his dirt bike
Wheely down the wrong block, all he seen was bright light
Cocaine residue, all up in my bloodstream
All I did was bag up, parole like the f#ck you mean?
f#ck you seen, wait a minute, how you getting all that green?
Everyday a different b#tch, Chanel must be for your queen
So, automatics and a couple of
They think it’s Isis if they raded, my stash is
Different wages, fans love us in different ages
New money, had to rder some pasport pages
Move like a hobby, I wasn’t in the lobby
My ticket stub say
Excuse me Mr. Black Gloves, my hands are blisters
Burn this m#th*rf#ck*r down, for my homie Whispers
A hundred on the highway, smelling tire smoke
A hundred of them packets, that’s the reason why it’s low
f#cking up the kitchen till the pot is broke
Whippin up that’s a different stroak
f#ck up out your feelings, that’s a different flow
Out to get a million, f#ck me living broke
Lay a n#gg# out, you bet he getting smoked
Hit him in the head, bet he
Everytime that I come up, and I leave a n#gg# burnin
Trigger finger itchin, best believe I have it burnin
f#ck it, keep it burnin
f#ck it, keep ’em burnin
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Lyrics Chris Rivers – Burnin
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