Yeah
It’s spooky
Way too spooky, n#gg#
Yeah, uh, look
Yeah
Everywhere I go, I got it on me, n#gg# (I got it right now)
And I ain’t lettin’ sh#t slide (I ain’t lettin’ that sh#t ride, n#gg#)
Go head and try me if you want, n#gg# (What’s poppin’?)
I let this f#ckin’ clip fly (Doot doot doot)
GxF to the death, n#gg# (Griselda)
And I’d never switch sides (This sh#t for life, homie, that’s my word)
You know how we play it over here, n#gg# (You know what’s up, p#ss#)
We get it poppin’ on this side (This side, brr)
Lock (Lock), load (Load)
Lock (Lock), load (Load, you know what’s up, n#gg#)
Lock (Lock), load (Load)
Lock (Lock, yeah), load (Load, yeah)
You can go and ask them other n#gg#s, they’ll tell you what’s up
I already been through there and hit one of them n#gg#s up (Doot doot doot doot doot)
They gon’ start thinkin’ I’m crazy, baby mama think I’m nuts
Ever since them n#gg#s shot me, I just stopped givin’ a f#ck (Ha)
I’m losin’ my marbles, lettin’ that AR go
Fifty shot sticks’ll do you n#gg#s something horrible (Brr)
Two-sixty on the digi’ dash, look how fast my car go (Vroom)
Talk about my face but can’t say sh#t about my bars though (Hahahaha)
Let my shooter snort a few grams, kick his door for the yams (Hah)
While I’m smokin’ kush with a b#tch I just imported from France (Cash)
Rockin’ Bathing Ape sh#t that I just bought in Japan (Woo)
I get to trippin’, get the blick and this AR in my hand (Brr, brr, brr)
Every bullet in the cartridges land
The stick look like a guitar in my hands, drummin’ like I’m part of a band (Woo)
My dog was behind the wall with your man (Hah)
I heard you got friendly extorted in the can, you thought I was playin’ (Brr)
Everywhere I go, I got it on me, n#gg# (Cash)
And I ain’t lettin’ sh#t slide (I ain’t lettin’ that sh#t ride, n#gg#)
Go head and try me if you want, n#gg# (What up, n#gg#?)
I let this f#ckin’ clip fly (That’s my word, n#gg#, run up and see what’s good)
GxF to the death, n#gg# (Griselda, n#gg#)
And I won’t ever switch sides (This sh#t for life, homie)
You know how we play it over here, n#gg# (You know what’s up, p#ss#)
We get it poppin’ on this side (Brr)
Lock (Lock, talk to ’em), load (Load, this that real, n#gg#)
Lock (Lock, this that real, n#gg#), load (Load)
Lock (Lock, gangster sh#t, n#gg#), load (Load, all my shooters lock and load, n#gg#)
Lock (Lock), load (Brr, yeah)
SP, DrumWork sh#t (Yeah)
211s, no turnin’, no 187s (Uh)
That black and grey checker hold the heckler (Ha, ha)
Your vest obsolete when we squeeze from the neck up
M-16, I’m quick with the inf
Feel like Tony, squinting, readin’ a blimp
The world is yours, chico, uh huh, the art of war is lethal
Never cease it if the score is equal (Nah)
I kill ’em all dead (All dead), run in they spot, paint the walls red (Walls red)
Glock .40 for the bald heads (Bald heads)
Sometimes I feel like a hypocrite (Why?), I kill a n#gg#
Make duffel off of tour, but then it’s back to the wicked sh#t (Ah)
Yeah, like I’m in tune with my djinn
A hard flick when I spit without using a pen (Grr)
Dance with the devil, the death call
I’m out the Buff with the slanted face killer with Bells Pals’
Call our bluff, get stuffed in a can or a wood coffin
Or get clipped when that clip with the switch get lift off (Brr, grr)
Lock (Lock), load (Load)
Lock (Lock), load (Load)
Lock (Lock), load (Load)
Lock (Lock), load (Load, yeah)
Boom boom boom boom boom boom
Doot doot doot doot
Brr
Yeah
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
Disclosure: As an Amazon Associate and an Apple Partner, we earn from qualifying purchases
Cathy Dennis – Catch You
DE’WAYNE – Truth Is
Conway the Machine Lyrics – Lock Load