Blunt to My Lip

Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip
Rocks in my sock, pocket full of chips
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip

Rocks in my sock, pocket full of chips
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip
Rocks in my sock, pocket full of chips
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip

Rocks in my sock, pocket full of chips
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip
Rocks in my sock, pocket full of chips
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip

Rocks in my sock, pocket full of chips
Pull up to your mammy house
I put yo family straight to sleep
Riding with the duster by my side

I'm about to sweep the streets
Tell them hoes I stole this murder? when I hit they fuckin' town
Tato tip all on that bitch so they don't make no sound
It's the grey five nine, step inside the columbine

Where you witness your demise
And this throne will still be mine
Grey Gorilla Mac nine, make your heart flat line
Speaking bout my fucking clique

Buckle up and throw down
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip
Rocks in my sock, pocket full of chips
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip

Rocks in my sock, pocket full of chips
Oh shit, here we go
These percs and xans, I'm feelin' low
We skrrt the porsche, the engine blow

I been too rich, now watch me glow
Draco twitch now, watch me empty out a clip
Shoot, shoot, shoot, bet your luck I'll hit yo shit
VVS my neck, jeweled out too, my wrist

Where the hunnid, hunnid, hunnid
Smoke is in a brick
I got too much on me, that's why your bitch, she want me
Iced out, all gold, hear the boy froze

Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip
Rocks in my sock, pocket full of chips
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip
Rocks in my sock, pocket full of chips

Watchin' for the police cause they always tryna catch me mane
A two to 11 in progress, I'm 'bout to rob this sucka out his shit
Tie him up and tape his mouth, tell this bitch don't make no sound
Throw that busta in the trunk, 'bout to take him hellbound

Out the grave, you can't kill what's dead
I like my room bloody red
My souvenir, this sucka head
And in the water is where he dread

Tearin' up the hot lead
I like the shotty cus its' spread
Fuckin' with the killa, promise by the end
You'll be dead

Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip
Rocks in my sock, pocket full of chips
Blunt to my lips, gun on my hip
Rocks in my sock, pocket full of chips



Credits
Writer(s): Michele Scatamacchia, Ivan Ramirez, Nicholas Voutsinas
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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