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The whole click tote pistols |
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buck ya lucky charms |
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niggas got tats on they necks and they arms |
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so when you see us comin, duck cuz we bussin |
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flyin in the bucket, holarin **** it cuz we thuggin |
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(times 2) |
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yeah |
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back in the lab, back on the block |
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back with them slabs, back with them glocks |
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run in ya drop, yeah nigga, we'll run in ya spot |
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take ya little chains and ya colorful watch(heh) |
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stackin my greens, money get locked |
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still on the corner i stand, trafficin on blocks |
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we'll pull a nigga card for real, yeah |
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my boys in da hood hard for real |
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and niggas say they ball, but what they talkin is lame |
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my whole clique strapped, and we off of the chain |
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plus alotta niggas fake, so ima say it out loud |
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cuz alot of niggas hate, but they dont say it out loud |
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i come from the a-town, we come from the playground |
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where niggas don't play 'round, stand and we spray rounds |
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still thinkin', we run from the k-9s, |
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got the trap bumpin like the beat in the bassline |
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the whole click tote pistols |
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buck ya lucky charms |
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niggas got tats on they necks and they arms |
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so when you see us comin, duck cuz we bussin |
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flyin in the bucket, holarin **** it cuz we thuggin |
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(times 2) |
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now, i roll wit the big dawgs. certified street hawgs |
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niggas run the mess hall, all day with shit, yall |
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niggas lined up waitin on the whistle like a kick off |
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then form a circle round your ass like a tip off |
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all of this was up to you, feelin need to lip off |
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you done got me pissed off, now you gettin shipped off |
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plus i got a charge, so it's guaranteed to jump off |
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got the pistol grip pumpers gaurenteed to dump off |
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we some real street cats, so we forever ballin |
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makin more than the government off these project housins |
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dawg, i stay thowed and blowed, i be wildin |
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on the set of photos with 2 hoes, im stylin |
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always on the scene, but rarely seen smilin |
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there aint a baddest pro from dallas to rhode island |
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boy before you do some dumb shit, boy you better think long |
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listen to these words close, this just aint no rap song |
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the whole click tote pistols |
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buck ya lucky charms |
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niggas got tats on they necks and they arms |
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so when you see us comin, duck cuz we bussin |
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flyin in the bucket, holarin **** it cuz we thuggin |
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(times 2) |
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aye, nowadays i just moan and groan. |
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i had a deal for year but still my lights aint on |
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feel pain, deep in my bones |
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and keep one eye open cuz you here then you gone |
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walk up on these suckas like "whats up with that" |
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movin like a centipede, jukin like a quarterback |
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poppin off up in the streets, specially where my partners at |
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mosta dem got 10 a piece, but **** it we some lumberjacks |
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take it there (take it there), yeah we can take it there |
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say you got a 'k' up in da trunk, lets see you make it there |
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i got my mindframe focused on this paper now |
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tryna buy a 100 acres, fillin up my bank account |
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tryna shake these haters off, thats what i been about |
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send a prayer for every slug rap before i send them out |
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i got dreams on that yacht drinkin guiness stout |
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but now im in the hood stickin to the shit i been about(edgehanger) |
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what the **** is you sayin!? |
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bitch good as your talk, nigga die in this bitch |
