lirik lagu walmart – roadrunner glockboyz tez
[intro]
(enrgy made this one)
[chorus]
yo, don’t f*ck with me because i got a money bag, you ain’t gon’ get sh*t
why you still lightin’ cribs up? it’s not christmas
he was muslim, chopper made him holy, now he christian
nigags thought they was finna get up with me, keep wishin’
why these n*ggas actin’ like they know me? i don’t know myself
i don’t ever call in, i’ll go myself
f*ck a n*gga b*tch, that’s gon’ make him wanna smoke himself
we don’t work at walmart, but we put sh*t on the shelf
[verse 1]
come on, ayy, where some weed? i’m tryna smoke
b*tch callin’ me hollywood, she wasn’t tryna f*ck when i was broke
tables turned, turnt up on they ass, already knew that, though
tez, can i be a glockboy? n*gga, no
cappin’*ass n*gga
bando bought a bustdown just off fappin’ n*ggas
on some real sh*t, i don’t like you weird*ass rappin’ n*gga
don’t tell me that you saw an opp, ain’t sh*t happen to the n*gga
you gon’ be dead in a minute, get your buzz on
somebody hit him in his sh*t, i got the drop when cuz called my phone
we ain’t finna box when we throw the gloves on
he broke as h*ll, but his head got a dub on
i ain’t chris tucker, it ain’t friday, but i’ll smoke dog
crash dummies, when y’all n*ggas die, they don’t post y’all
when we be in they dm, they let us roast y’all
match the shoes with the glock like loc dog
kobe should’ve kept number eight, f*ck a two*four
you know you wasn’t finna hit sh*t, f*ck you shoot for?
if you ain’t tryna let me hit that motherf*cker, what you cute for?
he said, “none of my mans dead,” what the f*ck you in a suit for?
you a fan, why you actin’ like my enemy, though?
he a he, put a hole in him, now he a ho (get it?)
all that purple bandana sh*t, this ain’t saints row
my n*gga take sh*t, don’t ask him what he stain for
[chorus]
yo, don’t f*ck with me because i got a money bag, you ain’t gon’ get sh*t
why you still lightin’ cribs up? it’s not christmas
he was muslim, chopper made him holy, now he christian
nigags thought they was finna get up with me, keep wishin’
why these n*ggas actin’ like they know me? i don’t know myself
i don’t ever call in, i’ll go myself
f*ck a n*gga b*tch, that’s gon’ make him wanna smoke himself
we don’t work at walmart, but we put sh*t on the shelf
[verse 2]
come on, somebody left that n*gga in a jar
that n*gga took too many shots, they left him at the bar
the other n*gga got did different, they left him in a car
n*ggas get a gun and a pooh shiesty mask and think they hard
why these n*ggas think they a gangster ’cause they a dropout?
opps drunk, fake deep kinda n*gga that don’t pop out
snippet on my story, they like, “what’s this called?” that sh*t not out
he was better off in jail, n*gga died when he got out
[outro]
f*ck
glockboyz sh*t
you know what the f*ck goin’ on, n*gga
stop playin’
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