Knife Talk Lyrics - Drake | 21 Savage

I gotta feed the streets, my pistol gon’ bleed the streets
Ski mask on my face, sometimes you got to cheat
To stay ahead in this bi**h-ard (gang), drank syrup like it’s liquor
Street life’ll have you catchin’ up to god quicker (yeah, gang)
Sticker, ak-40 to your liver
Let the chopper bang on you like a blood or a cripper (gang)
Flipper, so much bread, I’m a gymnast
Made so much money off of dummies, off of dummies (yeah, gang)

I’m mister body catcher, slaughter gang soul snatcher
Ain’t no regular f-150, this a f**kin’ raptor
No capper, street ni**a, not a rapper
Chopper hit him and he turned into a booty clapper
Smith & wesson, I’m 4l gang reppin’
We done baptized morе ni**as than the damn reverеnd (yeah)
Kappa alpha, me and my gang, we do all the steppin’
Who you checkin’? This fn shoot east to west end (gang)

Yeah
I heard papi outside
And he got the double-r droppy outside
Checked the weather and it’s gettin’ real oppy outside
I’ma drop this s**t and have these pussies droppin’ like some motherf**kin’—
Type of ni**a that can’t look me in the eyes
I despise
When I see you, better put that f**kin’ pride to the side
Many times, plenty times, I survived
Beef is live, spoiler alert, this ni**a dies

Keep blickies, and you know the weed sticky
My finger itchy, the glock like to leave hickeys
Your shooters iffy, a street punk could never diss me
I come straight up out the 6, and we don’t spare sixties

I f**k with her, and f**k with her, and her
I hit up err and tell him do the err, for sure
Voodoo curse, it got him while I flew to turks

Know the dogs had to hit them where we knew it hurts

Gang s**t, that’s all I’m on (yeah)
Gang s**t, that’s all I’m on
Ni**a, gang s**t, that’s all I’m on
Gang s**t, that’s all I’m on
Ni**a, gang s**t, that’s all I’m on
Gang s**t, that’s all I’m on
Ni**a, gang s**t, that’s all I’m on
Gang s**t, that’s all I’m on

Let it bang, bang, let it bang, bang
’til his brains hang and his mama sang
And the pastor sang and them bullets sang
And them choppers sang and the choir sang

I’m on everything
Jacob charged me four-fifty for a tennis chain
Us open, had it on us at the tennis game
Tell the coach don’t take me out, I like to finish games
And my pen insane, and my men insane
There’s like eighty of us now, that’s the scary thing
S**t they doin’ on that other side embarrassing
We in paris with it, hundred carats with it
All this s**t is for my son, ’cause he’s inheritin’ it

If young metro don’t trust you I’m gon’ shoot you
Gang
Metro

Gang s**t, that’s all I’m on
Gang s**t, that’s all I’m on
Ni**a, gang s**t, that’s all I’m on
Gang s**t, that’s all I’m on
Ni**a, gang s**t, that’s all I’m on
Gang s**t, that’s all I’m on
Ni**a, gang s**t, that’s all I’m on
Gang s**t, that’s all I’m on, yeah