Nigga Lyrics – Skrilla

Read the full Nigga lyrics by Skrilla from the album Z along with the music video, song credits, release information and other details about the song.

[Intro]
(Ryan, what took you so long?)
(Thank you, TimmyBoy)

[Chorus]
Uh, Glocks don’t got no safety, be on cam, you watch the HD
Cops done took my shooters out the field, something like the league to AB
Burning rubber in the Track’, somehow this b!tch’ll hawk a n!gga
Brodie like to bounce out, backseat boys, he like to walk a n!gga
DOA, cops label scene, they had the white chalk on a n!gga
I done pulled up presidential, all-black truck like Donald, n!gga
N!gga, n!gga, n!gga, n!gga, n!gga, n!gga (N!gga, what?)

N!gga, n!gga, n!gga, n!gga, n!gga, n!gga (N!gga, who?)

[Verse 1]
Uh, I watched 12 Years a Slaves, it made me think of all of my Orishas
N!gga said he want a feature, n!gga, you just gotta pay me
I done askеd God could He save me? And I still scrеam, “Free the Navy”
Rock a fella like a I’m JAŸ-Z, rock a n!gga like a baby
Uh, baby shark, doot, doo-doo-doo
I done pulled up in jet V12, can’t get lacking in the coupe
Cadillac packed up with troops
And I’m packing, what it do?
Yes, I’m packing, what is it?
Just tell me, what you tryna do?

[Chorus]
Glocks don’t got no safety, be on cam, you watch the HD
Cops done took my shooters out the field, something like the league to AB
Burning rubber in the Track’, somehow this b!tch’ll hawk a n!gga
Brodie like to bounce out, backseat boys, he like to walk a n!gga
DOA, cops label scene, they had the white chalk on a n!gga
I done pulled up presidential, all-black truck like Donald, n!gga
N!gga, n!gga, n!gga, n!gga, n!gga, n!gga (N!gga, what?)
N!gga, n!gga, n!gga, n!gga, n!gga, n!gga (N!gga, who?)

[Verse 2]

Hood hot, gave me a tan, I tried to get two rings and end up with four, Tim Duncan the man
Brodie dunking Drac’ on n!ggas, break the glass, Shaquille O’— damn
I done pulled up in the V8, got the molly in my hand, mix it with the Wock’
Put a Wock’ right on the rocks
I done snuck inside the club, I tuck the Glock inside my sock
Mama know I’m born a thug, don’t know why pops thought I was not
And you know the whole gang tryna get that brr up off the drop, uh, Glockies
I put a B ’round Santo Michael, n!gga got hit with a Micro, that s*it gave a n!gga lipo
N!gga said some fly s*it on Instagram and claimed a typo
We done cooked a vic and then we burnt the whip, my brother psycho, no bap

[Chorus]
Uh, Glocks don’t got no safety, be on cam, you watch the HD
Cops done took my shooters out the field, something like the league to AB
Burning rubber in the Track’, somehow this b!tch’ll hawk a n!gga
Brodie like to bounce out, backseat boys, he like to walk a n!gga
DOA, cops label scene, they had the white chalk on a n!gga
I done pulled up presidential, all-black truck like Donald, n!gga
N!gga, n!gga, n!gga, n!gga, n!gga, n!gga (N!gga, what?)
N!gga, n!gga, n!gga, n!gga, n!gga, n!gga (N!gga, who?)