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Aight,
These are the newest, ghetto flows comin' from the heart of Lake huron
Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #6,386
Peak in subgenre #577
Author
TLB
Rights
Circus Crown Co.
Uploaded
February 24, 2008
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.0 MB • 128 kbps • 3:15
Lyrics
Glock in the mail
Yeah okay, now,
Right here, I’m not saying I’m rich, not shippin the keys, not movin’ the bricks,
I’m steady choppin the g’s, to the brokest of the broke, tryna kick my lock off,
Just to get a few tokes, yeah- but there ain’t shit in there, what you think, I’m dumb,
I rock shows, slang oz’s, at 16 years young.
Got the wits of a tiger biitch, Come get “the stuff”,
If he a bro, he know, where he can get can get a puff,
Lookin’ for it, you know you can hit me up.
20’s, J.A Macdonalds, no 5’s I rip em’ up.
For all the dudes snortin’up lines upin the P,
You say -I’m small time, but I’m the one with the weed/
So why the fuck you tellin’ me, no time free,
From staying on the low, while I steady chop the g’s.
You comin’ home latenight, -find some blood in ya sheets/,
Now, aint that some beef, -I clean the mud off my sneaks,
And then I deak, -straight to the pad, with the chief,
We lay the bills out, sit back & blaze the reef,
(chorus)
See,
Another situation, and another fuckin’ fiend,
Rolling to city, to get deals on green,
Came back 2, but I sent em’ with 3,
Tried to get em’ hustlin, so he get me them g’s/
He flipped the shit, made the chips,
Payed me back, He brought me a sack,
Gave em’ some bills, he never came back,
So, now I;m strapped, Check out the gat,
(chorus)
New scene, new glock, new flow,
New ho, Same shit, but more dro,
If yalls want oz’s, Then I suppose,
Bring ya ass here, before this shit goes.
Because, it’s like hot-cakes, boy they hot,
Bring ya ass, round my shit, then ya best get shot,
For real, I sip Orangina all day, as I ball,
Too bad, you got coke, but it’s my call.
We gon’ sit up in Handicap, blaze upin the stall
Yuuhh
This is the hot new remix, most of yall hear this, but they do not feel this
The feelin’ is the realest, Some of yall fear this, Hopefully not,
When they hear this- new sample shit,
They feel the flow, and they know it’s Sampton Shit,
Them Pussy boys from the P, be getting’ cramps & shit.
I can ball, or lace it, and put a damper on that shit.
Flip the chips, while they trip.
Have all the dudes sayin’ “damn, what in it?”
Make the yeah favorite boy, run to the family clinic,
Run up on ya home, with family up in it.
When I hit you up, I return to the spot,
The bigger the smile man, the more they bought.
Yeah the bigger the stack, the the more I got.
Don’t fuck with coke, you get shot, for an 8,
in the parking lot,
Robbin ya’ for all ya got.
Yeah that’s why I pick a spot, and rock a glock,
And keep my eye on the tic-toc
