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bigalow da hotshot - san diego lyrics

and when i blow up, hope i blow up at the right time
and i get better over the years like im white wine
n-ggas never put in this much work but clocking my time
i just hooked up with a new connect and got some wifi
i found a new plug in san diego now it’s grind time
took me off the bench and now i’m balling f-ck the side line
i’m prolly running the red won’t catch me lacking at the stop sign
hard up in these streets and i got saved by my glock 9

i said i started getting chicken now i’m popping like it’s popeyes
i cut some homies off and you can see the pain in my eyes
and if you cross that line, we can’t re-admit you to my side
i’m standing 10 toes im 6’2 but i’m 5,5
and n-ggas changed like the seasons on me
i wasn’t fake so what’s the reason homie
i’m not a game these b-tches cheating on me
i’m not the fall these b-tches leaving on me
velveta the cheese i got some cheese up on me
back up off me b-tch you keep on breathing on me
strapped up if he move funny i start squeezing on him
new opp pack i’m smoking get to cheifing on him
no u-turns so you might as well just pop a wheelie
truth hurts so i really went and copped the semi
got 2 percs ion pop em so i pop the henny
my feet hurt my shoes talking cause i run the city
and they ain’t f-cking with me

and when i glow up hope i go up at the right time
and when that lime light hit me i hope that light shine
n-ggas never grinded this hard but watching my grind
i just linked up with a new connect and got some wifi
i found a new plug in san diego now it’s grind time
took me off the bench and now i’m balling f-ck the side line
i’m prolly running the red won’t catch me lacking at the stop sign
hard up in these streets and i got saved by my glock 9

bend blocks i need revenge for my dead friends
on the road to riches and i’m speeding through the dead ends
ion take no fl!cks cause pictures seem to bring the feds in
i let all my fiends stay the night they brought they beds in
i done f-ck around turned bolumbia to the west inn
you ain’t the teller at my bank b-tch who you checking
i got my work straight from the muscle like i do dead lifts
early morning p-ssing out them grits like we serve breakfast
connecting them dots, stacking them blocks up like it’s tetris
don’t come to my block tryna make no bops cause you ain’t check in
i tell em bow our heads and let us pray cause i’m bout lettuce
and the way i move i’m playing chess not playing checkers
i tell my shottas shoot cause when it’s beef b-tch we don’t dead it, no we don’t dead sh-t
and when it come to the fetti you know i gotta fetish
i heard you just bought a vest, well you can get ya head split
them bullets rip through ya chest they better call a medic

- bigalow da hotshot lyrics

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