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jay rock – lay low lyrics

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[intro]

[verse 1: jay rock]

it’s jay rock n-ggas know how i get down
kick in the door, waving that [?]
all in your house searching for those pounds
lay it down for ya hear that (buck buck) sound
look at my face, you see we ain’t playin’ now
war for the money we’ll tear this f-ckin’ place down
movin’ from state to state like greyhounds
face rounds cause we ridin’ on blades now
in the hood, sittin’ on something clean
big -ss eagle in my lap with a red beam
pop that head dog in my canteen
plus that [?] kush got my -ss on the d-mn lean
rock’ll never handcuff a ho
p-ssy is power, i would never ever love another ho
but b-tch n-ggas better lay low
clap the back of ya head knock your face on the f-cking floor

[hook: jay rock]

see me in the hood on my gangsta tip loadin’ clips
you better lay low
got a gat in my hand when i’m smokin’ a spliff, if you trip
i’ll let my sh-t blow
if you see me runnin’ round with an ak off in my hand
you better get ghost
and i’m bout to do some sh-t that you might not understand
i’ll let them chills go

[verse 2: storm]

yeah you know my style no need for introductions
i keep the full clip plus repercussions
sh-t it’s nothin’ to the floss type
look at my ring finger you get frostbite
h-lla chicks so i gotta keep ’em with me man
storm blow warm wind n-gga chain [?]
plus i hold my on spot i’m a leader fam
bet the tec have you flyin’ like you peter pan
if you all about your paper i’ll f-ck with you
get the diamonds, get the clothes, get the truck with you
close my mouth, hide them guns, i’ll tuck with you
[?] b-tch i got a buck with ya
hood rich i’m the strongest b-tch on my team
and i got 16’s that’ll make you scream
and my sixteen clips make n-ggas lean
had you looking indian with my red beam

[hook]

[verse 3: jay rock]
gat black like charcoal, let off rounds
see the barrel smokin’ like a marlboro
pushin’ c0ke i ain’t talkin’ bout soda
n-gga, i’m talkin’ bout yola
breakin’ down [?]
fiends at the back door, give ’em what they ask for
may i take your order?
i’m a watts living soldier
from the projects
keep glocks in our pants no holsters
watch what you when you approach us
get your -ss stepped on like c-ckroaches
play the game by ourselves no coaches
no father figures, the streets were our moses
fake gangstas, i call ’em hoes
they full of sh-t like toilet bowls
first draft pick now i’m makin’ major dough
now these chickas wanna l1ck me like an envelope

[hook]



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