key glock - spazzin out lyrics
[intro]
yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
uh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
uh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
(ayy this that sh-t right here, dawg)
uh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
okay
ayy, this sh-t crack
ayy, juice, this sh-t hot
on god, on god, ayy
[verse 1]
first things first, never too much money
i’m sippin’ on some purp’, thumbing through these blue hundreds (yah)
b-tch, i ain’t tryna flirt, you gon’ let me f-ck or somethin’? yah
glizzock in her tummy, i’m an animal, jumanji, uh
please don’t run up on me, yeah, show me my opponent, yeah
you n-gg-s jabronis, and not only that, you phony, yeah
you n-gg-s don’t want it, uh, go’n and board little homie
all that bullsh-t, don’t condone it, shoot you, i’m an organ donor, yeah
if you play with me, b-tch, i’m goin’ out like tony
carbon in the front seat when i’m riding ’round lonely
i get money in my sleep so i wake up money hungry
told that b-tch i play for keeps, you can’t play me like no dummy
key glock, how you get the foreign?
b-tch, backends off of touring
where you put all of that money?
d-mn, your bankroll enormous
i be sh-ttin’, i need some charmin
i be k!llin’ all my targets
smokin’, smellin’ like i farted
d-mn, i just funked up the party
big pints, no bottles, uh, drinkin’ ’til tomorrow, yeah
yeah, b-tch i get dollars, uh, i’m a don dada, yeah
harlem globetrotter, uh, shoot you and your partner, uh
racks in my pocket got me walking with a wobble, yeah
lean with it, rock with it
sippin’ on some wock’ (‘hardt)
motherf-ck the cops, uh (n-gg-)
tell ’em suck a c-ck, yeah
b-tch i send shots, uh (n-gg-)
n-gg- i don’t box, yeah
you know i cannot, not stop gettin’ this guap
i pulled up with the top off, made her panties drop, yeah
f-cked your future wife in my gucci flip-flops
talkin’ ’bout can she spend the night? b-tch, kick rocks
talkin’ ’bout can she spend the night? b-tch, i think not, uh (what the f-ck?)
[interlude]
hold up, hold up, hold up, hold up, hold up
i be spazzin’
you ready?
ayy, this sh-t sound so motherf-ckin’ fire
ayy, check this out, ayy
[verse 2]
dope boy sh-t, got my air max on, yeah
riding down the block, grippin’ on my chrome, yeah
you know what i got, b-tch, my money long, yeah
b-tch, it’s big glock, these hoes love my songs, uh
[outro]
yup, yup, yup, yup
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