Lil L.A. Marz - Near Miss (Intro)
Lyrics


Intro:
What, ouu, what (Beep)
Slatt, what (Bah, bah, bah, bah!)
What, ouu, what, what (Bah, bah, bah, bah!)
(L.A., who the fuck?)
Ouu (What?)
Beep (Slatt!) (Bah, bah, bah, bah!)
L.A., L.A., L.A., aye (What, ouu, what, what) (Bah, bah, bah, bah!)
Yah!
Ouu (What?)
Beep (Slatt!) (Bah, bah, bah, bah!)
Yah! (Yuh)

Pre-Chorus:
Pull up, hop out and almost get killed
Dodgin’ shit like balls in the gym
Are you alright, like how you feel?
Bitch, I’m fine, but where you been?
Nevermind that, nobody care for that shit
Only care ‘bout, is the guns on my hip
Not gon’ stand around, lookin’ scared as a bitch
Close call shit, boutta run outta sticks
Chorus:
Ouu, yeah, huh, near miss (What, ouu, what, what) (Yeah!) (Bah, bah, bah, bah!) (Beep!)
Huh, yeah, ouu, near miss (What, ouu, what, what) (Bah, bah, bah, bah!) (Yeah!)
Might gon’ have to tell yo bro to get his gear fixed (What, ouu, what, what) (Bah, bah, bah, bah!) (On god)
Try and hit me again
Ouu, yuh, near miss What, ouu, what, what (Bah, bah, bah, bah!)
(Yah)

Verse:
Two plus seven it’s out like the sun
Exposed from heat, you better run (Let’s go!)
Shoot on sight, yo life is done
Over, fineto, you know what (Yeah)
What’s the problem? I got none
It’s just you just actin’ tough
N***a soft like Charmin’ tissue, is you weird, the fuck? (What?) (Martini got the acid, n***a!)
1,2,3,4,5,6,7
That’s how many shots that’ll be aimed at yo leggings (Yeah)
Said that shit cuz you actin’ like a bitch
Gun turned lesbian, kiss my Wesson
That n***a switchin’ the bullet and shit (Yeah)
Take his head off, now he crooked as shit
Where I’m I at? Now they clueless for real
Don’t know how I’m doin’ this shit (Yeah)
Better realize, this is suicide when you pull up on me, ouu (Yeah)
Fuck yo dick size, this is shootin’ time, watch yo mouth around me, yeah (Yeah)
Too excited for talkin’ shit, put yo dick away, you a freak, yeah (Uh!)
He a rat, n***a started small, shit, he a mouse with the cheese, yeah (Yeah, yeah!)
Stop, gotta be the one to tell you stop it (Uh)
I’m boutta ready-set-go to yo n***a crib, finna end up on Fox 6
Not Fox 5, this some Milwaukee shit, we murk n***as cuz y’all like to talk shit
Only way you gon’ be seen on TV, if I’m gon’ make you the main topic, let’s get poppin’ (Yeah, yeah)
Pre-Chorus:
Pull up, hop out and almost get killed
Dodgin’ shit like balls in the gym
Are you alright, like how you feel?
Bitch, I’m fine, but where you been?
Nevermind that, nobody care for that shit
Only care ‘bout, is the guns on my hip
Not gon’ stand around, lookin’ scared as a bitch
Close call shit, boutta run outta sticks

Chorus:
Ouu, yeah, huh, near miss (What, ouu, what, what) (Yeah!) (Bah, bah, bah, bah!) (Beep!)
Huh, yeah, ouu, near miss (What, ouu, what, what) (Bah, bah, bah, bah!) (Yeah!)
Might gon’ have to tell yo bro to get his gear fixed (What, ouu, what, what) (Bah, bah, bah, bah!) (On god)
Try and hit me again
Ouu, yuh, near miss What, ouu, what, what (Bah, bah, bah, bah!)
(Yah)

Verse 2:
Roddy Ricch shit, put the gun in the box (Martini got the acid, n***a!)
Can’t hide it in my sock, you’ll see it on the spot (Yeah!)
Just like the store, I got it on lock
Cuz you a fake, you is a bot
All of deez n***as be workin’ for opps
N***as be hoes, they be suckin’ on cock
Whole face purple, look like they sip wok
Deez n***as be corny, so they gon’ be popped (Yeah!)
Hard as shit too, please don’t make a fit, boo (Yeah!)
Said, “I miss you”, lemme bust my dick through (Ok!)
She want drip too, Dior is the fit, ouu (Woo!)
She ain’t gettin’ shit, until I bust some kids through (Yeah!)
Miss me, miss me, now you gotta kiss me, not me, kiss my gun with the red beam
Silly, silly, n***a tryna kill me, wrong choice of moves, you get the blicky (Let’s go!)
Why is you blinkin’? Just in case, you gon’ drown in yo blood and start to sinkin’
Now I’m thinkin’ that’s just what’s gon’ happen, I’ll get my choppa singin’
Damn, look at that, all of the blood
Damn, that shit all over the rug (Damn)
Damn, like a bitch finished a serious period, last day, the end of the month (Woo, woo!) (Damn)
Whole lotta red, for real (Uh!) (Damn)
Like that Playboi Carti shit but you’d be dead for real (Damn)
You get checked for real (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Pre-Chorus:
Pull up, hop out and almost get killed
Dodgin’ shit like balls in the gym
Are you alright, like how you feel?
Bitch, I’m fine, but where you been?
Nevermind that, nobody care for that shit
Only care ‘bout, is the guns on my hip
Not gon’ stand around, lookin’ scared as a bitch
Close call shit, boutta run outta sticks

Chorus:
Ouu, yeah, huh, near miss (What, ouu, what, what) (Yeah!) (Bah, bah, bah, bah!) (Beep!)
Huh, yeah, ouu, near miss (What, ouu, what, what) (Bah, bah, bah, bah!) (Yeah!)
Might gon’ have to tell yo bro to get his gear fixed (What, ouu, what, what) (Bah, bah, bah, bah!) (On god)
Try and hit me again
Ouu, yuh, near miss What, ouu, what, what (Bah, bah, bah, bah!)
(Yah)

Outro:
What, ouu, what, what (Bah, bah, bah, bah!)
(Yeah, L.A., went hard with this one.)
Ouu (What?)
Beep (Slatt!) (Bah, bah, bah, bah!)
L.A., L.A., L.A., aye (What, ouu, what, what) (Bah, bah, bah, bah!)
Yah!
Ouu (What?)
Beep (Slatt!) (Bah, bah, bah, bah!)