Karaoke Slime-U-Out by 21 Savage, Shy Glizzy — sing along with lyrics on Singa

Slime-U-Out Karaoke

21 SavageShy Glizzy

LyricsSlime-U-Out

Million if they come

and hit the spot

I got tunnel vision

My lil' hitta bustin'

out the car

he shoot with precision

Pray I don't have to send

his ass to God

so I hope he listen

Thirty shots

I'm busting at his top

ain't no way

I'm missing

All my n##### trapping

getting money

let that glizzy off

Move my dog to L.A.

on the run

he let that fifty off

Yeen getting money

fuckin' bitches

what you living for

Money makin' Jefe but

I slime you out like Alpo

I wasn't gon'

Take your babe but yeah

I guess she think

I'm cooler

I don't fuck with

bitch ass n#####

every n#### around

me shooters

I rob a n####

for a hundred

take it to the jeweler

Bitch this a Richard Mille

we don't rock

no Franck Mullers

I fuck with n##### a little

but I don't bring

'em where I stay

I'm too big for my hood

but I still be there every day

Sometimes I gotta go slide

just to let 'em know

I don't play

They think that I'm a rapper

I'll take they ass away

I be with them trappers

bitch

send they ass them packages

Got a bitch who black and rich

I think she immaculate

These n##### be tapping in

they be on some capping shit

Got my Glock glued to my hip

I don't do no lacking bitch

Million if they come

and hit the spot

I got tunnel vision

My lil' hitta bustin'

out the car

he shoot with precision

Pray I don't have to

send his ass to God

so I hope he listen

Thirty shots

I'm bustin' at his top

ain't no way

I'm missing

All my n##### trapping

getting money

let that glizzy off

Move my dawg to L.A.

on the run

he let that fifty off

Yeen getting money

fuckin bitches

what you living for

Money makin' Jefe but

I slime you out like Alpo

Switch on my Glock

they know how we rock

I ain't got no opps

all they ass popped

They say they gon' spin

I know that they not

Filled 'em up with hollows

he said they was hot

Double back again

we ain't done

we finna smack his friend

Rock out with my twin

speak on my brother

your shit get splat again

Four L 'til the end

what they ridin' in

I think a Benz

Broad day we spin

jump in the box

and we gone in the wind

Everybody act like

they got milk

shit we got revenge

I don't ever walk inside

no church 'cause

I'm committin' sins

Keep on talkin'

we gon' make a frown up

out of that grin

Bitch ass opp

won't even get on live

he got shot in his chin

Million if they come

and hit the spot

I got tunnel vision

My lil' hitta bustin'

out the car

he shoot with precision

Pray I don't have to

send his ass to God

so I hope he listen

Thirty shots

I'm bustin' at his top

ain't no way

I'm missing

All my n##### trapping

getting money

let that glizzy off

Move my dawg to L.A.

on the run

he let that fifty off

Yeen getting money

fuckin bitches

what you living for

Money makin' Jefe but

I slime you out like Alpo

Publisher
I Want My Publishing Co., Kobalt Music Pub America Inc, Artist Pub Group West, Slaughter Gang, Glizzy Gang Publishing, My Lord Prophet Music, Sony ATV Songs Llc, Wc Music Corp, Songs Of Universal Inc
Copyright owner
Fletcher Redd, Andrew Joseph Jr Gradwohl, She'yaa Bin Abraham-Joseph, Robert Deandre Watson, Marquis King, HOLIDAY, BILLIE, HERZOG, ARTHUR JR, Christian Ward