[Chorus] 2x
We won, we won
And then we shot that BB gun
And they lost, and they lost
Til we took they shit, now its time to floss
To ya, to ya, 0-17 warfare
Life in the fast-lane, little red corvette
Little red handkerchief, hangin out the right side
Back pocket jeans fallin, Couple my ____ signed
Yep we do shine, and they gon’ hate
But they hated Jesus baby we won’t break
So we ride like 4 Pirelli’s
So secured no security, no protectin no comparing
Lok and heavy, Ocean 11
Aviators, both tickers, so figures
No playas, I’m Hollygrove to the heart
Hollygrove from the start
Don’t cross their heart
Boulevard we’re the war I come from
171 shot, never that (blum blum)
Brrrt Brrrt! Pop Pop! Clap Clap!
What the fuck, Hollygrove stand up Nigga!
[Chorus]
Get ‘em get ‘em Wheezy hit ‘em where you hit ‘em easy
Sit em in the river, leave em, they find em tomorrow evening
Sinkin or probly drinkin that syrup
Thinkin I won’t slip, even though I’m leanin like a broke hip
He don’t know I got the nina wit the 4 clip
Has the summer solved back spin full flip for ya?
Push this button, I flip out and hit something
Miss nothin i'm just bustin until this thing cling
12 hundred for the jeans stop playin
Hundred dollars for the glock in my pants
Who the man? I am when I stand with the pointer right at ya face
Knock the brains from the back of ya neck for lack of respect
I- strap a jet black gat ‘til the deck
Tell the mama to bury me with that, No Bullshittin’
My hood getting kinda crazy where I be
So roamies with me cuz these the OG’s
[Chorus]
Fresh out the back seat of the figgity phantom
The haters I make em mad em when I wave at em like what up?!
If it ain't about money I keep goin
I tryna get that green, niggas tryna mow my lawn
But Fuck, them boys I got the shottie on my arm
If them boys run up I leave their bodies on the lawn
And uh, the fuck out a there, cuz Baby is outta there
If this was a movie it’s time to roll the credits, cut!
Its all over, all of ya brains is all over the motherfuckin’ block!
I’m a motherfuckin’ rock!
Hard body eagle street 17 shots
Night vision double-clip, hot steady beam, glat! Plat!
Drop little man drop
This is not for little bitches your man on fox
I’m layin in the drop, thinking of more money
Cash money, young money
Take money, your money.
[Chorus]
|
|
