gripping the glock - america's most wanted lyrics
[verse 1]
biggety*bop, biggety*bop, creepin’ down another fool’s block
then with that facemask down, finna chrome shot
boom boom, bustin’ up into your hat rack
i’m peelin’ caps back, splittin’ n*ggas’ kool*aid packs
that’s why i roll with my windows tint
with my mac on the seat cuz i’m a threat to what they represent
buck buck, n*gga, lay down
biggety*blam, biggety*blam, you motherf*ckers better stay down!
this buck run up, try to buck up
i’ll let this glock one eighty seven dance and you’ll be f*cked up
abra kadabra and dust to dust
my people one eighty seven, buck buck, when i bust
bing bing, bing, with them lethal hands
now they blood in sand cuz that phat 4*5 jammed
i had to box with the po*pos
they tried to mock a motherf*cker and treat me like a yo*yo
i had to straight pull a gaffle
i let them chambers go and left his back in the gravel
[hook]
doin’ houdinis like a genie grippin’ the hot glock
straight jackin’, straight jackin’
doin’ houdinis like a genie grippin’ the hot glock
straight jackin’, straight jackin’
[verse 2]
step back, make a hole for the loc d*ck
n*ggas jock when i drop this dope sh*t
n*gga, pop, n*gga, drop, n*gga, pop pop
tear it off in that ass two four seven with this hot glock
hollow tips got ’em jacked back, i’m like a black gnat
cuz i be peelin’ n*ggas’ caps back
psycho, return of the dead
i got this glock givin’ motherf*ckers pumpkinheads
i’m a maniac, lunatic, n*gga, no f*ckin’ chips
i hit the toxic blunt, now i’m seein’ sh*t
n*gga, what? n*gga, blam! leave ’em all dead
i’ll let this glock tap dance on your forehead
bring it to ’em like this
a rat a tat a tat, boom, hocus pocus, b*tch!
[hook]
doin’ houdinis like a genie grippin’ the hot glock
straight jackin’
doin’ houdinis like a genie grippin’ the hot glock
straight jackin’, straight jackin’
doin’ houdinis like a genie grippin’ the hot glock
straight jackin’, straight jackin’
[verse 3]
tiggety*trip, tiggety*trip, don’t trip, no sh*t
flip the clips, cuz they take
riggety*rippin’ like norman bates
i hit the blunt and now i’m tip*top
i got them black mac*11 clips taped to my flip*flops
i’m like a nighty*night stalker (ooh!)
lightin’ up sh*t cuz i’m a motherf*ckin’ mobster
biggety*block! f*ck it, let’s toe*tag ’em
my chopper’s spittin’ fire, so you know they had to bodybag ’em
n*gga, they whole family got toe*tagged
i left the scene lookin’ like a bliggety*bloodbath
with bl**dy sh*t drippin’ from my figgety*facemask
the pet bird made a noise so i bucked his ass
a maniac, don’t f*ck with me
cuz i’mma pop that ass in front of god and everybody
a buck wild try to buck up
i’ll let this glock one eighty seven dance and you’ll be f*cked up
[hook]
doin’ houdinis like a genie grippin’ the hot glock
straight jackin’, straight jackin’
doin’ houdinis like a genie grippin’ the hot glock
straight jackin’, straight jackin’
doin’ houdinis like a genie grippin’ the hot glock
straight jackin’, straight jackin’
doin’ houdinis like a genie grippin’ the hot glock
straight sidewayz
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