lirik lagu free grimey dawg – stoneda5th
[intro]
(tsj did that)
[verse]
bounce out on an opp, that’s my speciality
free grimey dawg, he was trippin’ in the streets
he tried to run, bullets knocked him off his feet
i’m from the murda, i’ll smack you, you got a key
the only time y’all get faded when you in jail
catch him hangin’ on his block, he get sh*lls
if they put you in that station, better not fail
the homies gon’ take your life if you tell
they locked me down for a year, i thugged it out
could’ve went home, but i closed my mouth
every time i seen an opp, we shot it out
caught an opp in the halls and we squabbled down
hood tatted on my face ’cause i earned it
i just hit for a twenty*piece, now i’ma splurge it
i ain’t never lackin’, b*tch, it’s next to me
you was supposed to bust when you saw me, instead you texted me
i love the hood, i risk it all for the hood
all that dissin’ got your man put in a ‘wood
all that dissin’ got your man put in the air
at fifteen, i was g*ngb*ngin’, you was at the fair
i’m the same n*gga by myself, so i act tough
y’all n*ggas turnt in the media, in person, y’all poob*tt
i just bought a brand new glock, i named it back*up
that n*gga a b*tch, [?], back up
b*tch, i’m from edgemont, i bust on anybody
let a n*gga touch me, then i’ma catch a body
your n*gga broke, he think he on, drivin’ a bucket
but he ain’t walkin’ no more, so i’m like, “f*ck it”
5.56s bust his head since he want smoke
i been slidin’ broad day with the tiny locs
if the rollers get behind us, is you gon’ choke?
i’m bouncin’ out like f*ck a stash, pass me my blower
that n*gga mad i f*cked his b*tch, b*tch, i ain’t know her
i was runnin’ fades back to back inside the slammer
your homie lost his life slidin’ with jammers
see a f*ggot, get it crackin’ like f*ck the cameras
it’s fun and games ’til we get to trippin’ in they hood
free shotta deuce, free jackboy, free baby boog
mixed and matched a n*gga program, that’s why my name good
i’ma gas the whole beat like f*ck the hook
caught him at the red light, we left him shook
the homie caught a body, the judge smacked him with the book
[outro]
no drive*bys, rather walk him down on foot
all headshots, we ain’t aimin’ at his foot
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