G-Lock
(Hurricane made this one)
Ayy
You know I get money, f#ck b#tches, duck snitches
n#gg#s already know the business
f#ck a n#gg#, f#ck his brother, f#ck his gang, n#gg#s know they ain’t f#cking with me (Yeah)
Yeah, big watches, big rains, big chains, n#gg#, I ain’t ever tucking sh#t (Uh-uh)
Yeah, f#ck the opps, f#ck the cops, tell em’ all that they can suck a dick
Yeah, presi wrist, presi ten, big sticks, b#tch, I move like the President
My opps sh#t, mafia sh#t, free Rock, twelve still ain’t stopping sh#t (I heard these n#gg#s dropping dimes)
I’ma drop some shells around this b#tch
Yeah, n#gg# been popping my sh#t, been popping my collar since I was six
Yeah n#gg#, since I was a jit, I been legit, yeah, I kept a stick
Aiming at you and I bet I won’t miss, I aim it at him and I bet that I hit
Straight out the mud but I don’t f#ck with pigs
I got some top in the back of the Benz
Momma’s only son don’t call me a twin
n#gg#, I put that sh#t on the fam
My cuzzo be serving the been’ he say he going in until they come and get him (Yeah)
I told him don’t worry just get it done and if you gonna done it don’t do it for fun
Yeah, if you gonna do it, don’t do it for none
Beat the block up like a motherf#cking drum
n#gg# try to take some, cut off his arm (Yeah, yeah)
I’m a cutthroat, humble, nonchalant, rich #ss young n#gg# (Yeah)
Pack flippa, big dripper, big pistol, lil n#gg# keep it with em’
Sneak dissing got me tickled, what’s the issue? Shine your head for a n#gg#
f#ck these n#gg#s, f#ck these b#tches, f#ck the fame, yeah, and f#ck the system
Ayy
You know I get money, f#ck b#tches, duck snitches
n#gg#s already know the business
f#ck a n#gg#, f#ck his brother, f#ck his gang
n#gg#s know they ain’t f#cking with me (Yeah)
Yeah, big watches, big rains, big chains
n#gg# I ain’t ever tucking sh#t (Uh-uh)
Yeah, f#ck the opps, f#ck the cops, tell em’ all that they can suck a dick
Yeah, tell ’em, “Suck a dick”, middle fingers up, they ain’t talking ’bout sh#t
It’s “M.O.B.”, yeah, money over b#tches, I’ma be this way ’till I’m eighty-six (Yeah)
Matter of fact ’till I’m ninety-nine, or you could just say until I die
Ten-toes down, I ain’t got sh#t to hide, I’m cutthroat for real can’t trust my smile (Yeah)
Lambo truck with butterfly doors, they like, “This young n#gg# wilding” (Woo)
I hop in that b#tch and put it in Corsa mode, take off like a pilot
Yeah, diamonds on me fighting like a mosh pit, yeah, might start a riot
Cartier shades like Sonic, and my chopper sing like Alvin the Chipmunk
I been sipping lean and smoking big blunts
Trap n#gg# f#cking with the big coin
n#gg#s rappin’ capping like they did sum’
Stop lying, n#gg# you ain’t did nun’
I just crush a lot, pockets big gun
I been going dumb, still going dumb
And I put that on my grandma’s son, n#gg#
You know I get money, f#ck b#tches, duck snitches
n#gg#s already know the business (Yeah)
f#ck a n#gg#, f#ck his brother, f#ck his gang
n#gg#s know they ain’t f#cking with me (Yeah)
Yeah, big watches, big rains, big chains
n#gg# I ain’t ever tucking sh#t (Yeah)
Yeah, f#ck the opps, f#ck the cops, tell ’em all that they can suck a dick (b#tch)
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
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