Torch (Triple C) - Got Damn lyrics

[Intro: Gunplay] 3 C's, 2 M's: color, cut, clarity — million-dollar marriages Cut the tape on this motherf**er right here, Gunplay, Drama, Kay [Hook: Gunplay] Hey you heard about the home boy? Yeah got damn, left him with a hole so wide Yeah got damn I bet he know how we play now Yeah got damn Better lay down and stay down Yeah got damn, got damn, got damn, got damn, got damn, got damn, got damn Why they did that boy like that? Yeah got damn, got damn, got damn, got damn, got damn, got damn, got damn Why they did that boy like that? [Verse: Gunplay] Empire shell catcher, on this Daddy long ratchet, only Hundred-fifty in the can, dusting Still burning bam, run it down You short by the gram, you can die about that Ain't no lying about that, my dawg So we going bank beaucoup. I roll 88 acres — zoo crew Handcuffs like a noose, too b**h, I'm black ops — noob tube Now who wanna run on one then? Run one gun in? Left him in one Tim f** you want me to do? Feeling unbeatable My wolf pack snapping, looking unfeedable Get buddy buddy, gonna get bruised, untreatable I'm on that sh** Steven Seagal do You know what Got trialed all the way The judge who tried it, man, he died on the way All that there meat, it's mine all the way Gas station — don't drop a dime on the way [Hook] [Verse: Ace Hood] Blood, sweat, and tears — Mind over matter sh**ting on you n***as, got a bad bladder Britain panorama (zoom), my b**h from Atlanta Sit on daddy lap, yeah, she call me Santa Dancing in that p**y. b**h, I think I'm MC Hammer Touch my paper, b**h, I'm bucking like I'm out of Tampa Still at it, they say my flow tragic f** them n***as, clean the scene like it was Proactiv Real n***as, deal with them. Leave a n***a in a box like Tommy Hilfiger What up, Kay? Give me some of them bad b**hes The ones who like it rough and hard, like them college quizzes You feel me? You feel me? Have them b**hes coming back, just like a Frisbee Word up, straight stunting b**h, I hit the villa, talking five-hundred [Hook] [Verse: Torch] AK, AR, hollow-tip accessible, run up in your vestibule Dodge you like a decibel, leave your a** a vegetable Beefing, now you a side dish I ain't a chef but I mastered how to fry fish When digits stacking, kidding turn into kidnapping I know the pigs tapping, so we convo Pig Latin Feds following me like I'm playing Simon Says Bishop... n***as 'til the Drama dead I'm with the drama king, you know how drama do it Like sheets on the spot, next stop trauma unit Head buster, leader of the military Bread like Pillsbury, I ain't never been scary Street sweepers, three divas, straight stunting When money ain't nothing, of course they f**ing No strings, I control you ― puppetmaster (?) [Hook]