lirik lagu glock 3 – dustero
dustero/intro:
i’m done, sike
yeah, yeah
yeah yeah
dustero/verse one:
we love the money and we love the guns
and it be glock part three you know that we drillin
yeah
touching who? touching me?
to god you don’t know where yo ass gon’ be
7.62’s knock him out like a bumblebee
we love the drugs we love this feelin’
the police pull up you know from the nod
you know we been choppin’ the saw
he thought we was playing til’ we shoot us a fl!ck
whenevеr we aim, we make a movе out
better then choppin’ his saw
i be poppin’ this sh*t like i’m nle
boy you know that’s a felony
boy you be dead if you stepped to me
he said he in a container
he said it was stanked up
yeah we shooted us a fl!ck
he was dodging by eight and seven and nine
tenth shot got him down
jamen/verse two:
wake up in the morning it’s a good day
please don’t test me cause i’m not that n*gga that you wanna play
i can steal your girl, i call that trick a treat
menace, n*gga should’ve never ever send his beat
to keep it a buck, i don’t give a f*ck
i’m that n*gga with three glocks
your b*tch wanna come suck on me
i’m f*cking and f*cking and f*cking and f*cking a goat
you don’t want the smoke
make a n*gga have a stroke
(can’t catch a body)
most of you n*ggas ain’t drippin’
i come in like pimpin’ no scotty
but you tryna copy
dustero/verse three:
you say you gangster you said you a stripper
but you don’t f*ck with the police
we let it burn like you f*ck with no b*tches
we let it burn like you flirt with no lover
i got that top shotta, big dollar
no farther, no lover
we got money and we runnin’ his wallet
you said you the goat
lil b*tch stop the cap
when i shot bad b*tch i hit it a shoot
i’m on the boss sh*t
yeah, i’m on the gang sh*t
you can get your ass pinned on
b*tch, hoe, you a snitch
i got those b*tches on my d*ck yeah
these b*tches been sucking my d*ck like a flavoured cucumber
bet you begging the c
yeah, yeah, yeah
i be runnin’ up on money i love this feelin’
remember them days a b*tch was swimmin’
dustero/outro:
i might just ko the perc, k!llin’ me slowly
feel like i’m kobe, can’t hold me, no, no
run up on me wrong, turn his head into a bagel
shoot him like no hoe me, from my hip, up from my hip, like a school shooter
let the beat break, break, shake, shake, breako
keep all that, keep all that, straight trait, that’s the way to go
(clap)
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