b.o.c. click – freestyle (2) lyrics
[unknown artist]
i’d rather fry in h+ll than die in jail
now i’m buying yayo doubling clientele
i thought they’d never, peep the way i hold the beretta
befo’ i bought me a jet i sold my soul to the devil
cocaine visitin’ texas, blizzard in my necklace
slit a n+gga throat and left his gizzard in my lexus
trailing a bad b+tch in a acura jeep
because she got 2 bricks under the passenger seat
i always thought the mafia’d be a fun hobby
so i dropped outta school started workin’ for john gotti
i snap on a n+gga like a doberman pinscher
and i, i pack a 4 to put a hole to ya thinker
in this southern cartel i play mo’ positions than cardell
dump you in the river in a sack full of barbels
n+gga was tellin’ wartel, ready when the plex start
a n+gga like me, my f+ckin’ pockets got stretch marks
[south paw]
it’s that boy south got gold in my mouth
b.o.c. blowin’ up know what i’m talkin’ ’bout
got dope in my house so you know a n+gga stashed it
i saw a yella booty in the club so i grabbed it
i ain’t that nasty but my gucci’s flashy
pass me the aloe vera cuz my knuckles ashy
pass me the swisher, that broad don’t kiss her
because on the cool she be tricking off with other n+ggas
well how you figure, a n+gga peezy know
because we done ran a mind’a rail on that silly ho
vin done got the dodo so you know we gon’ blow for sure i’m a rhyme pro ask that psychic cleo
i’m a yella bone smasher’ hard like tank thrasher
bodyrocking yo block in a shuttle straight outta nasa
k!lling yo peoples with streetsweepers automatic gats letting ’em know
i got drama where you sleeping at it’s 17 shots
17 glocks for 17 blocks and 17 rocks, stashed in 17 drops
that equals 85 cops y’all can’t handle me
tryna dismantle my shop b+tch don’t try to damage me
perrion got the dope and i put it in the streets
32 keys, a tec+9, and a couple freaks
number 1 stunner but get dirty if i have ta
south paw and perrion got bullets chasing b+st+rds
[perrion]
there’s so much smoke round here you need an aspirin hater
these days ballin’ expensive so i’m after the paper
this the south, and i’m serious as a heart attack
hydroponic quarter tank i’ma throw the game like a quarterback
i get mo’ head than a starter hat, sip codeine ’til my kidney pop
“perrion you gotta quit smoking” whenever bobby and whitney stop
this is not a threat b+tch i’m colder than ever
you know i’m tal’in’ ’bout? hah, i ain’t trippin’
[s.e.j.]
…
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