Lyrics: Lino Slatt/Seneca Brewer
Music: Lino Slatt/Seneca Brewer
I'm a ride for my guys and I can't fold
We be makin' plays up in places that you can't go
Me and you are not the same, you a lame-o
**** that little Glock, 50 shots out this Draco
Ayy, call this Glock Red Bull, I'm tryna make 'em fly
She died like a opp bitch for hangin' with them guys
Bitch, we tryna give him wings
Choppa on Kevin Gates the way I let it sing
Lil' bro shooter, but he not clay
Alley-oop with the semi, we gon' up K's
Ayy, 30 inna 15, Glock R. Kelly
We gon' slide through your block, and leave your block messy
Ayy, KO'd off the juice, bitch, I'm Sprite Tyson
Are you finna get the money or you gon' die tryin'
Bitch, I feel like 50 cent
I got 21 questions but I got 60 tecs
I'm a ride for my guys and I can't fold
We be makin' plays up in places that you can't go
Me and you are not the same, you a lame-o
**** that little Glock, 50 shots out this Draco
Now on his block, you hear gun sounds
Shells hot, got 'em runnin' from these drum rounds
And my demons comin' out when it's sundown
One call and his ass gettin' gunned down
Got his bullet holes smokin' cause the stick hot
They know my shit hot, I'm finna pop like some flip flops
He let his nuts hang, he get neutered on the scene
Put a 30 in the Glock, it's the best shooter in the league
Ayy, shorty bad, but I'm ****in' and leavin
Now I'm up, they can't ****in' believe it
Treeshes, baby said she love me, do you mean it?
Slidin' through with dogs, don't make me take them off they leashes
And we try to tell- but he ain't listen
Mama want me out these streets, I wanna make chicken
And I promise if we slide, then we ain't missin
Ridin' with that big boy, I call him Blake Griffin
Two poles on each side cause he think he tough
That's two arms swingin' round, I'm tryna double dutch
We double clutch, let it rip, watch him buckle up
Lately the streets been cold, better snuggle up
Head spinnin' off them jiggas like I breakdance
All the state, we catchin' bodies, you in great hands
I'm at his show with this pole, I'm a fake fan
On the block, it get funky like a wasteland
I'm a ride for my guys and I can't fold
We be makin' plays up in places that you can't go
Me and you are not the same, you a lame-o
**** that little Glock, 50 shots out this Draco
Now on his block, you hear gun sounds
Shells hot, got 'em runnin' from these drum rounds
And my demons comin' out when it's sundown
One call and his ass gettin' gunned down