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grave plott – buckin’ lyrics

[intro: haystak]
this sh-t is dedicated to my dirty thug brother adam andersin, aka xanax the clown
he p-ssed away yesterday
stak mack
crackavelli
graveplott
liquid -ss-ssan
k!lla c
let’s get it

[verse 1: haystak]
my people wait for me to give them the gate
knowin when they put the pistol out i’ll bust at your kinfolk
it’s too late to get low, after the sh-t that’s been smoked
we gon come through that motherf-cker, leave everything broke
i’m provoking that now, going through the town
i was blowin that purple, while you was smoking that brown
i make phone calls to road dogs who do what i say
cross a line, now you lying, you gotta pay
oh by the way, we leaving you leaking
your family greaving
you just be bleeding, and we told your daughter you’re sleeping
but even she didn’t believe it, tell ‘m we pop sh-t
get that -ss k!lled
cause that’s real
f-ckin with them pale faced boys, have you boxed up and severed
chopped up, and dropped in the desert
no freadom for your stupid -ss, start hollering at n-body
you f-ckin with stak mack and them graveplott boys

[chorus: haystak]
you buckin b-tches, you witnessed sh-t that was none of your business
and you with the mort-tion, and if you end up on this sh-t, we can give you the business
ain’t n-body on the team leave till this sh-t’s finished

[verse 2: liquid -ss-ssan]
i’m a street monster, retreat your roster
week feends get chopped up, we speak and get it shot up
leave the streets with your carkis, eat sleep with garvy
he speaks no problem, eat beef regardlus
got the semi automatic, blast amatics and tagging them
p-ss the trafic, we lagging them
rapped in plastic, we dragging them
i keep it propper with pistols in my bandannas
from 8th wood, i can feed you bananas
stak on the track, that’s a fact, he come with a strap and crack and the mack
it gon blast and leave you on your back
and now you tagged for the fact, a counter atack couldn’t react
you’ll be trapped cause the gat is in a black sack
cross my path, or disturb my vision
my palm start itchin, grab that burner from that kitchen
you birds i’m grippin, now we ready to f-ck your b-tches
the whole industry gon feel me, that’s with all my sickness

[verse 3: k!lla c]
stressed and depressed, with every breath that i’m breathen
i got your -ss bleeding, with your best b-tch leaving
and i’m a pirate, confescating your sh-t
it’ll take nucular weapons to sink my ship
i ain’t no b-tch, but you gon be my punk
if you need to take a nap, go and sleep in the trunk
we don’t take kindly to bullsh-t and women talk
you acting like a prost-tute, so go get yourself some c-ck
a pine box is made, boddies in the street
a courpes on the low, gets a whole 6 feat
am i gonna die? yes sir, this is your final descent
but i can’t take it back, it’s just the life that i’m living
i do what i do, just to get bye
the dealers all supplied, feends stay high
my moms was poor, the soul of a young boy
sit back and listen while i click clack my toy

- grave plott lyrics

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