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I need to talk to Mike Laury Hello? This is Mike Laury (Mm-mm) Dubba-AA flex (Mm) Ashes to ashes, dust to dust Only in my chopper I trust (Grrat) Yeah (Winning lottery numbers coming up) I feel like Rondo with this nine on my waist I ain't talkin' basketball We bring straight gun smoke in that state Walked around the corner, I bang and blast 'em all When we slangin' iron, run blood down on that ghetto Like, "Boom, boom, bop," bitch, this that casket talk Lil' bit down the alley, we shake and jump out Nobody safe, don't come out after dark She say she like the way this Patek spark, ayy She like the way that I'm shinin', yeah Open my mouth and I'm blindin' thеm We really slangin' nine with thеm We pressin' on the Glock, ayy, ayy When Nicky get out, I'ma buy him a pistol Beam right off the scope of a big 9mil' Pockets burn with the cash, I shoot at every hitta, who shot 'em? Know that, ayy Tell me who want smoke inside this party, who'll blow the K? I just gave my youngin' thirty thousand, where the .38? Glock with the drum, we steady mobbin' and tryna boost the murder rate Letras de cancionesWe look for somethin' inside the projects, we step like fuck him, it's a murder case Glock with a beam, we go up with the metal Killin' run in my genes, see, my uncle a steppa I be rockin' Supreme with the Burberry letters My lil cousin's thirteen but in love with Berettas Ayy, I'm tryna figure out how can I catch him Take 'em out by his house, when he come out, we wet 'em Couple Ps in the trunk, we put thousand or better They know that we put that heat on whoever Leave some blood on the street, then we thrown down the leather Tell 'em turn on the beat then I dance with the devil Ain't no internet beef so y'all better be careful Put that boy on a T-shirt, we dead 'em like rappers Get the lock off the [?], then I step on the pedal From the East to the West, slangin' nine in the ghetto Got a foot on they neck 'til they break, I won't let up Only reason they hate 'cause I run up my cheddar Stick to the code, don't trust a bitch who get set up Thinkin' my codeine and my Crip, cuz' screamin' out, "It's whatever" (Yeah, yeah) Designer clothes, [?], was back to Fran Wesser (Oh yeah) Dig up and go who not beneath me with a brick and a shovel, yeah I feel like Rondo with this nine on my waist I ain't talkin' basketball We bring straight gun smoke in that state Walked around the corner, I bang and blast 'em all When we slangin' iron, run blood down on that ghetto Like, "Boom, boom, bop," bitch, this that casket talk Lil' bit down the alley, we shake and jump out Nobody safe, don't come out after dark She say she like the way this Patek spark, ayy She like the way that I'm shinin', yeah Open my mouth and I'm blindin' them We really slangin' nine with them We pressin' on the Glock, ayy, ayy When Nicky get out, I'ma buy him a pistol Beam right off the scope of a big 9mil' Pockets burn with the cash, I shoot at every hitta, who shot 'em? Know that, ayy Tell me who want smoke inside this party, who'll blow the K? I just gave my youngin' thirty thousand, where the .38? Glock with the drum, we steady mobbin' and tryna boost the murder rate We look for somethin' inside the projects, we step like fuck him, it's a murder case From Letras Mania