america’s most wanted – gripping the glock lyrics
[verse 1]
biggety+bop, biggety+bop, creepin’ down another fool’s block
then with that facemask down, finna chrome shot
boom boom, bustin’ up into your hat rack
i’m peelin’ caps back, splittin’ n+ggas’ kool+aid packs
that’s why i roll with my windows tint
with my mac on the seat cuz i’m a threat to what they represent
buck buck, n+gga, lay down
biggety+blam, biggety+blam, you motherf+ckers better stay down!
this buck run up, try to buck up
i’ll let this glock one eighty seven dance and you’ll be f+cked up
abra kadabra and dust to dust
my people one eighty seven, buck buck, when i bust
bing bing, bing, with them lethal hands
now they blood in sand cuz that phat 4+5 jammed
i had to box with the po+pos
they tried to mock a motherf+cker and treat me like a yo+yo
i had to straight pull a gaffle
i let them chambers go and left his back in the gravel
[hook]
doin’ houdinis like a genie grippin’ the hot glock
straight jackin’, straight jackin’
doin’ houdinis like a genie grippin’ the hot glock
straight jackin’, straight jackin’
[verse 2]
step back, make a hole for the loc d+ck
n+ggas jock when i drop this dope sh+t
n+gga, pop, n+gga, drop, n+gga, pop pop
tear it off in that ass two four seven with this hot glock
hollow tips got ’em jacked back, i’m like a black gnat
cuz i be peelin’ n+ggas’ caps back
psycho, return of the dead
i got this glock givin’ motherf+ckers pumpkinheads
i’m a maniac, lunatic, n+gga, no f+ckin’ chips
i hit the toxic blunt, now i’m seein’ sh+t
n+gga, what? n+gga, blam! leave ’em all dead
i’ll let this glock tap dance on your forehead
bring it to ’em like this
a rat a tat a tat, boom, hocus pocus, b+tch!
[hook]
doin’ houdinis like a genie grippin’ the hot glock
straight jackin’
doin’ houdinis like a genie grippin’ the hot glock
straight jackin’, straight jackin’
doin’ houdinis like a genie grippin’ the hot glock
straight jackin’, straight jackin’
[verse 3]
tiggety+trip, tiggety+trip, don’t trip, no sh+t
flip the clips, cuz they take
riggety+rippin’ like norman bates
i hit the blunt and now i’m tip+top
i got them black mac+11 clips taped to my flip+flops
i’m like a nighty+night stalker (ooh!)
lightin’ up sh+t cuz i’m a motherf+ckin’ mobster
biggety+block! f+ck it, let’s toe+tag ’em
my chopper’s spittin’ fire, so you know they had to bodybag ’em
n+gga, they whole family got toe+tagged
i left the scene lookin’ like a bliggety+bloodbath
with bl++dy sh+t drippin’ from my figgety+facemask
the pet bird made a noise so i bucked his ass
a maniac, don’t f+ck with me
cuz i’mma pop that ass in front of god and everybody
a buck wild try to buck up
i’ll let this glock one eighty seven dance and you’ll be f+cked up
[hook]
doin’ houdinis like a genie grippin’ the hot glock
straight jackin’, straight jackin’
doin’ houdinis like a genie grippin’ the hot glock
straight jackin’, straight jackin’
doin’ houdinis like a genie grippin’ the hot glock
straight jackin’, straight jackin’
doin’ houdinis like a genie grippin’ the hot glock
straight sidewayz
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