Chief Keef - Neph Nem (with Lyrics & Subtitles)
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Chief Keef - Neph Nem (en) Lyrics
by RentAnAdviser.com
On Roc grave, on Cap head, So, foe
You be tweakin', foe, you
know what to do with this
**** though, Roc grave
Keep that though, foe, keep that
so they know, on folks 'nem
Twenty pounds of gross in
the trunk, I know you smell
it on me (Woo, woo)
Ain't no crossin' Sosa, bitch,
you know what happened
to Tony (Woo, woo, woo)
Before I let a bitch play me, I'd
rather play with Sony (Woo, woo)
I'm a Southside-ass nigga, catch
me ridin' down Stony (Woo, woo)
I just, I just, I just, I just
I just, I just, I just
I just blew the top off it (Woo),
hot dog on it (Woo)
White Rolls boys, does it look like
God, don't it? (Woo, woo)
Porsche 918 (Woo), frog
eyes on it (Woo)
Pay all cash, put my son
life on it (Woo, woo)
Ran into a lick (Woo), put
the squad on it (Woo)
I can get you gone with just
one nod, homie (Woo, woo)
Shit been gettin' fishy (Woo),
fishin' rod on me (Woo)
Bitch brought her friends and I
put the squad on it (Woo, woo)
This ain't your regular truck (Woo),
it's a mod on it (Woo)
Wide-body kit look like a
dad bod on it (Woo, woo)
They like, "Chief So, your cup cost
a BBL, don't it?" (Woo, woo)
Jewelry in the treasure box (Woo),
call me Dragon Tales, homie (Woo)
That USPS, still check (Woo),
I got mail, don't it? (Woo)
This money brand new, it got
the smell on it (Woo, woo)
She told him she ain't hop on my dick
(Woo), she fell on it (Woo)
Had to leave by eleven, this bitch
act like 12, homie (Woo, woo)
I'm in that wide-body Rolls,
me and Dank in it (Ayy)
We ain't got no plates, but this bitch
got a Drac' in it (We gone)
We can smell a murder soon as
we see that face, spin it
We got bond money, but we smokin'
stank tinted (Skrrt)
All the opps know, got a hundred
rings, we winnin' (What up?)
Call up Chief So, whenever
he say it, we'll hit him
Pull up in that Lam', me and
Lil Lam, it ain't rented
I can send a M in minute,
just a signature
Pointin' right at him, it's him,
four-nick, we gon' sentence him
Married to that block, we divorce
him, we gon' finish him
Heat right on his top, we gon' scorch
and spin back, watch him drench
Trained so many shooters, run
up twenty sittin' back
on the bench (Ayy, ayy)
If it's really beef, we don't tweet,
we don't send 'em hints
If it's really smoke, we gon'
blow, we gon' spin again
Bro went up the score and I ain't
know, I know that's my twin
Put you in that trash can when
we spin the bend (Ayy, ayy)
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