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Line of Fire, Pt. 9 Video (MV)




Performed By: Nines
Featuring: Fatz, Streetz, Henkie T, RM, Chy Cartier, J Styles
Language: English
Length: 4:24
Written by: Courtney Freckleton




Nines - Line of Fire, Pt. 9 Lyrics
Official





My new burner's so long
It shoots 'til it goes click-click, comes like I'm tryna turn the stove on, uh
If you get caught with that birdie in the trunk
When you get to the station, better turn into a monk, uh
I had TP's, pure sniff
Your re-up came in a bag, mine came on a forklift
Ask around
I'm the number one plug when it comes to weed, pound-for-pound
Them opps' guns jam a lot
I got the same ones Tony Montana got, uh
I ain't like them niggas, these man are bummy
The kinda broke that owes the weed man money
It's Nines

Ayy, they call it candy cane
Free Pap, it's killing the brandy game
We ran it up, put it on my family name (my bro)
That's bro like Sully and Dushane
I'm the one to turn up the deadline
250 Benz hug the road like it's bedtime
They know I run track like the Met line
Fatz in my ear, bro like, "Anyone can get bine"
When they ask if I'm good, I just say I'm great
Got a baddie waiting on a date
You know Styles pull up fashionably late
She know I'm dope like them tracks we create
Dope boy shit, they try put me on the digis
White girl from country, I took her to the city
They ain't seen a trap like this since Nina and Midgey
We ain't stepping out without Ninas and Glizzies

Way before the rapping, man was outside banging
They know Fatz with the cannon when I come and do a mazzalini
Bro's got it hanging out the window in the Lamborghini
That's bro cah you know we got grease like Santorini
I'm the daddy, all these little niggas wan' be me
And I ain't even in town bro, you can't see me
They all know that we're one of the baddest
And if that nigga ain't dead then I know he's a cabbage
I had to laugh, these niggas be throwin' out acid
You see that little switch when I put it on rapid?
Been a legend, you can go and ask your bredrin
I just aim at your melon then I squeeze about seventeen

No need for me to pretend
Locked in with family, it's rare I ever see friends
And I put the work in often, even weekends
Plus I'm giving out free gems, take notes
They're disguising all the hate when they make jokes
And when they make it rain, f*ck your raincoat
You was hating from long time, when we was in the same boat
Pray they see me fail but say they wish me well
Pay attention to the detail
'Cause there's fire in my lines, Line of Fire, first female, the first girl
I know they're hurt, well that's life
They like to say I think I'm too nice, I am nice
When you spoke behind my back, that was your worst L
I'm not from Church Road, we don't do the scraps
'Bout to make this nine ring like a church bell
We go together and it works well

In the trap though, the phone blow day and night
I mean the cats know your boy got beige and light
I'm in the churches, hand-to-hand, prayer like
All I do is talk weight, I probably weighed your life
See suttin poking out of my shirt, what's that?
Suttin long, what's that? What's wrong? Wash that
Feds lock up my dargs, no fraud, hush that
Fly birds, dust pack in the church cross that
Yuh tink ah talk and just bars then
Ah wah you call them
Have mi owner ting, mi nah call friend
Free the gang, they want the team, ask the sergeant
Say a prayer for the hood, they want our men

Yo
Nigga I'm a boss, car money on my watch
Reach for my chain, the M-10's spraying off
They say having daughters makes you go soft
I still pull up, slap twenty shots then I'm gone
Told my chick, "I gotta stay strapped 'cause I'm popular"
Hood nigga, still got a throwaway Nokia
Way before Wandsworth
RM was getting mad dome in my cell from a female officer
Don't smoke, never popped Molly
The first man I touched was with a twelve gauge shotty
I heard niggas rapping 'bout hobbies
These niggas like Victoria Beckham, they ain't got no body
Strap on my waist so I ain't gotta use a belt
Seven-six-twos that will go straight through your house
Before I ever snitch, I'll shoot myself
Step with two straps like Ghetto in Supacell
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.


We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.




My new burner's so long
It shoots 'til it goes click-click, comes like I'm tryna turn the stove on, uh
If you get caught with that birdie in the trunk
When you get to the station, better turn into a monk, uh
I had TP's, pure sniff
Your re-up came in a bag, mine came on a forklift
Ask around
I'm the number one plug when it comes to weed, pound-for-pound
Them opps' guns jam a lot
I got the same ones Tony Montana got, uh
I ain't like them niggas, these man are bummy
The kinda broke that owes the weed man money
It's Nines

Ayy, they call it candy cane
Free Pap, it's killing the brandy game
We ran it up, put it on my family name (my bro)
That's bro like Sully and Dushane
I'm the one to turn up the deadline
250 Benz hug the road like it's bedtime
They know I run track like the Met line
Fatz in my ear, bro like, "Anyone can get bine"
When they ask if I'm good, I just say I'm great
Got a baddie waiting on a date
You know Styles pull up fashionably late
She know I'm dope like them tracks we create
Dope boy shit, they try put me on the digis
White girl from country, I took her to the city
They ain't seen a trap like this since Nina and Midgey
We ain't stepping out without Ninas and Glizzies

Way before the rapping, man was outside banging
They know Fatz with the cannon when I come and do a mazzalini
Bro's got it hanging out the window in the Lamborghini
That's bro cah you know we got grease like Santorini
I'm the daddy, all these little niggas wan' be me
And I ain't even in town bro, you can't see me
They all know that we're one of the baddest
And if that nigga ain't dead then I know he's a cabbage
I had to laugh, these niggas be throwin' out acid
You see that little switch when I put it on rapid?
Been a legend, you can go and ask your bredrin
I just aim at your melon then I squeeze about seventeen

No need for me to pretend
Locked in with family, it's rare I ever see friends
And I put the work in often, even weekends
Plus I'm giving out free gems, take notes
They're disguising all the hate when they make jokes
And when they make it rain, f*ck your raincoat
You was hating from long time, when we was in the same boat
Pray they see me fail but say they wish me well
Pay attention to the detail
'Cause there's fire in my lines, Line of Fire, first female, the first girl
I know they're hurt, well that's life
They like to say I think I'm too nice, I am nice
When you spoke behind my back, that was your worst L
I'm not from Church Road, we don't do the scraps
'Bout to make this nine ring like a church bell
We go together and it works well

In the trap though, the phone blow day and night
I mean the cats know your boy got beige and light
I'm in the churches, hand-to-hand, prayer like
All I do is talk weight, I probably weighed your life
See suttin poking out of my shirt, what's that?
Suttin long, what's that? What's wrong? Wash that
Feds lock up my dargs, no fraud, hush that
Fly birds, dust pack in the church cross that
Yuh tink ah talk and just bars then
Ah wah you call them
Have mi owner ting, mi nah call friend
Free the gang, they want the team, ask the sergeant
Say a prayer for the hood, they want our men

Yo
Nigga I'm a boss, car money on my watch
Reach for my chain, the M-10's spraying off
They say having daughters makes you go soft
I still pull up, slap twenty shots then I'm gone
Told my chick, "I gotta stay strapped 'cause I'm popular"
Hood nigga, still got a throwaway Nokia
Way before Wandsworth
RM was getting mad dome in my cell from a female officer
Don't smoke, never popped Molly
The first man I touched was with a twelve gauge shotty
I heard niggas rapping 'bout hobbies
These niggas like Victoria Beckham, they ain't got no body
Strap on my waist so I ain't gotta use a belt
Seven-six-twos that will go straight through your house
Before I ever snitch, I'll shoot myself
Step with two straps like Ghetto in Supacell
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Courtney Freckleton
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

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