boxhed - lazer dim 700 lyrics
[intro]
f*ck, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck
i’m high as f*ck right now
f*ck, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck
[chorus]
n*gga pull a whole lot of racks out right now
three chains on, my neck a lil’ iced out
turn this sh*t up, finna burn down the f*ckin’ house
b*tch keep callin’ my phone
had to tell that ho i ain’t doin’ no cakin’
walkin’ down the road, under my arm, i got the glock, though
jumpin’ in the crowd, if i see smoke, act slow
[verse 1]
i’m a problem child, somehow i can rock those
sit the f*ck down, you makin’ that cap sh*t
f*cked up when they been screeching around sh*t
get behind the wheel, i might geek up this v6
i don’t f*ck with grammar, ain’t need it, i’m true with it
you gon’ get spinned, you talk with these n*ggas
ooh, just drop me off half double soon
b*tch gon’ top me off after i don’t do one
spin the b*tch every day, buy a umbrella
i want to break the b*tch, i’ll have my fun with her
anywhere wе go, push, know we got a gun with us
turnin’ sh*t only at the f*ckin’ function
smokin’ all this f*ckin’ dope, got thе munchies
all these b*tches wanna lean
whole lot of racks, whole lot of money
box a n*gga in, why you runnin’ from me? (f*ck, f*ck)
[chorus]
n*gga pull a whole lot of racks out right now
three chains on, my neck a lil’ iced out
turn this sh*t up, finna burn down the f*ckin’ house
b*tch keep callin’ my phone
had to tell that ho i ain’t doin’ no cakin’
walkin’ down the road, under my arm, i got the glock, though
jumpin’ in the crowd, if i see smoke, act slow
[verse 2]
i ain’t gotta tell lil’ twin to blow ’cause he on go
same p*ssy hatin’ in my comments be front row
why the f*ck a n*gga askin’ me? n*gga, i don’t know
i ain’t need too much, we ain’t puttin’ drip on it
every time i rap, it be weed and my earphones
everybody in my hood, i run out of flip*dots
champagne’s on the line, n*gga, but i’m n0body
dirty glock in my pants, probably got four bodies
seven grams goin’ for a dollar, you get most of it
bump down to my hood, got your ho in my hood
i love all my family, 12 know what’s up
up it out my pants, send this f*ck boy
p*ssy n*gga hit, he wanna fire me up
cl!ck the five*seven once just to test my luck
escaped it so i call the black truck
[chorus]
n*gga pull a whole lot of racks out right now
three chains on, my neck a lil’ iced out
turn this sh*t up, finna burn down the f*ckin’ house (burn down the f*ckin’ house)
b*tch keep callin’ my phone
had to tell that ho i ain’t doin’ no cakin’
walkin’ down the road, under my arm, i got the glock, though
jumpin’ in the crowd, if i see smoke, act slow
[outro]
f*ck f*ck
f*ck, f*ck
ayy, ayy, fire that sh*t up
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