Music Video

Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Young Dolph
Young Dolph
Vocals
Key Glock
Key Glock
Vocals
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Bandplay
Bandplay
Producer
Cldhrt
Cldhrt
Producer

Lyrics

Glizock (Cldhrt) (Let the band play) Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah Yeah, yeah, yeah Ayy Still on that gang shit, no lame shit, no, I can't trust a thot I'm paper chasin', my bank big, you can tell just by these rocks You know I pop shit, I talk shit, 'cause I gets a lot of guap You know my neck and wrist is real water Yeah, Alkaline and Voss (yeah) Uh, money, money, money gettin' taller And these choppas we got is the largest Yeah, Mr. Glock, lil' bitch, I'm the sergeant You don't really, really, really want problems Nah, you don't really, really, really want problems Send you to the gates, nigga, motherfuck a doctor Choppas on choppas, you don't wanna get chopped up Who is that? Yeah, it's a goat and a dolphin, uh Choppas on choppas, yeah Choppas on choppas on choppas on choppas (fire) Smoke like a Rasta (yeah) My bitch ass fat and so is my pockets (yeah) Everybody know (what?), I keep a bankroll on me and a rocket (uh) Ain't no leg, no (uh-uh) I'm aimin' straight at your motherfuckin' noggin (fire) (Yeah, yeah) no innocent bystanders, I hit my target (got 'em) Keep a chopper in the closet (uh) I brought my fire in the party (uh) Wear Chrome Heart like Ed Hardy (damn) Promethazine, it got me noddin' (damn) Baby look just like a goddess (bad) But I don't give a fuck 'cause I'm heartless, yeah, yeah (the fuck?) Uh, I'll never change 'cause I'm just too solid (yeah) Stuck in my ways, got a pistol in the party (yeah) Dumb, dumb money, I'm goin' retarded I'm havin' my way and they say I'm toxic I'm straight off the block, I ain't never had a wallet (uh) Two straps on me, yeah, Drake and Josh Ayy, shout-out to my opps Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, middle fingers to the cops (yeah) These niggas hatin' on the kid (what?), tell these niggas stop (yeah) I told my teacher, "When I grow up, I wanna be like Glock" Now it's a couple years later, bitch, look at your boy I just pulled up in that Lambo' truck, then lift up my door Bitch, I get that dough, I get that dough, I can't get annulled These bitches and these haters know what's up Yeah, they know it's us (Glizock) I be throwin' bullets just like Brady, come and catch a slug Throwin' bullets just like Brady, throwin' bullets just like Brady Fry your ass like some bacon, fry your ass just like some bacon Seen him on the E-way, flipped him, now I don't think he gon' make it Naw I ain't the type of nigga to ask for shit 'cause I'ma take it In my spizot, countin' mula, bitches walkin' around naked Remember I used to share my clothes With my cousin, I used to hate it (damn) I went and found me a plug (run it up) Motherfuck that paycheck (fuck all that) Everyday I wake up (what?), I'm like, "Where that cake at?"
Writer(s): Adolph Thornton, Krishon Gaines, Markeyvius Cathey, Austin Theriot Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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