Conway the Machine, Beanie Sigel — Lock Load
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Текст Conway the Machine, Beanie Sigel — Lock Load
Yeah
It’s spooky
Way too spooky, niggas
Yeah, uh
Yeah
Everywhere I go, I got it on me, niggas
And I ain’t lettin’ shit slide
Go head and try me if you want, niggas
I let this fuckin’ clip fly
GxF to the death, niggas
And I won’t ever switch sides
You know how we play it over here, niggas
We get it poppin’ on this side
Lock, load
Lock, load
You kno what’s up niggas
Lock, load
Lock, load
You can go and ask them other niggas, they’ll tell you what’s up
I already been through there and hit one of them niggas up
Momma they gon’ start thinkin’ I’m crazy, baby mama think I’m nuts
Ever since them niggas shot me, I just stopped givin’ a fuck
I’m losin’ my marbles, lettin’ that AR go
Fifty shot sticks’ll do you niggas something horrible
Two-sixty on the digi’ dash, look how fast my car go
Talk about my face but can’t say shit about my bars though
Let my shooter snort a few grams, hit the store for the yams
Only smokin’ kush with a bitch I just imported from France
Rockin’ Bathing Ape shit that I just bought in Japan
I get to trippin’, get the blick and this AR in my hands
Every bullet in the cartidges land
The stick look like a guitar in my hands, drummin’ like I’m part of a band
My dog was behind the wall with your man
I heard you got friendly extorted in the can, you thought I was playin’
Everywhere I go, I got it on me, niggas
And I ain’t lettin’ shit slide
Go head and try me if you want, niggas
I let this fuckin’ clip fly
GxF to the death, niggas
And I won’t ever switch sides
You know how we play it over here, niggas
We get it poppin’ on this side
Lock, load
Lock, load
Lock, load
Lock, load
Yeah
Woo
SP Drumwork shit 211s don’t turn into 187s
That black & grey checker hold the heckler
Ya vest obsolete when you squeeze from the neck up
M16s equipped with inf feel I feel like Tony squinting’
Reading the blimp
The world is yours Chico, the art of war is lethal
Never cease it if the score equal
I kill em all dead run in they spot paint the walls red
Glock 40 for the bald heads
Sometimes I feel like hypocrite
I kill a niggas
Make but then it’s back to the wicked shit
Yeah, like I’m in tune with my Jen
A horror flick when I spit without using a pen
Dance with the devil, the death calling
I’m out the Buff with the slanted face killer with Bells Palsy
Call I’ll bluff, get stuffed in a can or wood coffin or
Get clipped when that clip with the switch to lift off
Lock, load
Lock, load
Lock, load
Lock, load
Yeah
