2Tapped - Ching Lyrics

If you see me pop them doors with a 4 foot long run cause you might
Get board yes cheff and dig out his chest don't look my way cause you
Might get pressed I hold that title, real ching spammer I'll ching till there's
Nothing left your haja was screaming, why she got beat Her son got 7 rams

In the chest see Mox and his sis got something in common there's something
Up in the guts Mox slipped up, he was screaming niggas Made it to his stomach
Yelled out Kalas Bro Hitman, he's nuts Bro GB got numerous guns Bro Vlone
Tryna grip on a firearm Catch him a zombie, let that struck

Tryna link a tuck in the 9 grounds T1 Abel got cheffed down Spinning the H
We were there when the sun's out barber shop put 3 in his head, ouch Steppa
SY got an evil smile got blood on their face like bloodhounds Snapchat locate
Just got intel pushing in remix, head to the C now Yeah we put the melt in, melton

For the beef, it weighs a ton catch me a zombie, somebody help him
Doing way more than puncturing lungs Brown skin, fat ass in a bahti
Gloss on her lips, oh damn she naughty This Marzi don't got a car key
Shank on my lap, still chingin in a heartbeat In jail you learn and meant to reflect

But I'm busy plotting on violence gun to his head, having thoughts of him dying
Bro's like why is this nigga just smiling I'm trying to get a black cunt off
Stomp on his chest when his heartbeat stops even though when the f*ckboy's dead
I'm still gonna ching, ching, ching if you see me pop them doors with a 4 foot long

Run cause you might get c***** Yes, cheff and dig out his chest
Don't look my way cause you might get pressed I hold that title, real ching
Spammer I ching till there's nothing left Your haja was screaming, why she got beat
Her son got 7, rams in his chest See Mox and his sis got something in common

There's something up in the guts Mox slipped up, he was screaming niggas
Made it to his stomach, yell out khalas Bro, Hitman, he's nuts
Bro, GB got numerous guns Bro, Vlone tyrna on a grip on a fire
Catch me a zombie, let that struck MK skin was black so Hitman shoved that

Crowbar deep in his head Reesco slipped in the 9, didn't have my shank
So I whooped his ass instead Anything O get, shot and stretched
Nigga no shit, I'm f*cking vexed I learnt to be friends with my anger
Splash him down till he's dead, dead, dead Initiate that glide, don't f*ck round

Put your game face on, bout to kick that goal in
Hop in a Ford and broski's focused Jumped out, smoke him, hocus and pokers
Choking on blood, his final moments But I ain't never witnessed that
Kick your door, I'm quick to attack Anything black, you might get packed