WARNING Lyrics – Saint BaLenci
Singer: Saint BaLenci
Title: WARNING
Lucid this beat crazy
Come round here we don’t no warnings (yeah)
Get, hit up in the morning
Oppas are lame they’re moving all boring
Sending these shots lay him down now he’s snoring
Might put 10 in his back like Messi
Don’t stress me my b#tch undress me
Down on your knees like you tryna bless me
Watch your mouth when you wanna address me
I’ll show you to my b#tch, small and thick
And I call her Nina
She’s dirty and likes to spit out bullets
That’s my nine millimeter
Iced out the Rolexes & Audemars
We’re whipping this sh#t in the new foreign cars
Got new cuban links and all Cuban cigars
We aim for moons and we’re shooting the stars
Randy Orton I got voices in my head
I know hittas real killas I’m a legend in the flesh (yeah)
She wondering like why she always in my bed
Shawty asking me for breakfast but I gave her dick instead (yeah)
Ridin round the city
My brother just rode in a Bentley
G Wagons I look at ceilings
Non existent none prevent me
That girl is so fine that I’m screwing
I f#ck her guts now she’s just spewing
The vivid pictures that I’m painting
She’s always asking what I’m doing
Come round here we don’t no warnings
Get, hit up in the morning
Oppas are lame they’re moving all boring
Sending these shots lay him down now he’s snoring
Might put 10 in his back like Messi
Don’t stress me my b#tch undress me
Down on your knees like you tryna bless me
Watch your mouth when you wanna address me
We come unexpected, this gun’s unprotected
We’re leaving the scene with this blood on our denim
The Porsche Carrera this 9 mil Beretta
His soul disconnected we shot him with venom
Try talking on me then just talk on the net
Were leaving that block now his mum’s all upset
This pack is from hell and were smoking he’s dead
When I smoke on this Cali I never feel stressed
I’ve been grinding too long
I could never move wrong
Racks come in from these songs
Hundred bills in her thong
Hundred bills in her thong
I’ve been grinding too long
I could never move wrong
Racks come in from these songs
That choppa that choppa
I feel like I’m Rocky
I’m spazzing in every song
Someone come stop me
Mercedes Mercedes
A truck like G Wagon
We shootout like Compton
My crew get to cappin
Grab the nank and then clean it
Bleach it, ballie on now I’m creeping
Stab him up and the coroner’s cleaning
Beaming your future’s just dead no meaning
Known for four doors nines in the ride
We do the seeking we don’t hide
Got me a freak b#tch I keep on the side
And when I look down she swallows her pride
Now she’s texting and getting attached
Sorry baby think we’re mismatched
No need to overreact
Blocked her number her heart collapsed
Come round here we don’t no warnings
Get, hit up in the morning
Oppas are lame they’re moving all boring
Sending these shots lay him down now he’s snoring
Might put 10 in his back like Messi
Don’t stress me my b#tch undress me
Down your on knees like you tryna bless me
Watch your mouth when you wanna address me
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Lyrics Saint BaLenci – WARNING
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