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tg flockaa - bailout gang (hazard lights) lyrics

[intro: tg flockaa]
like, what? gang, gang, gang
(ayo eli, what the f+ck?)
ahh
i’m back in the booth, n+gga
bailout gang, get with me

[verse 1: tg flockaa & jaydachaserr]
ayo cuzzy, go grab out the knocks (go get it)
we gon’ do what we want on that block (gang, gang, gang)
anybody move wrong, then they ass gettin’ shot (grrah)
better show me the bag when i walk in the spot (walk in the spot)
with my lawyer, not talkin’ to cops (at all)
i’ma shake up the spot when i go to the rock (gang, gang, gang)
free [?], and dot (free the gang)
can’t forget about the trendy flocka (free the sev)
talk on bro, get sent to the doctor
so y’all b+tch n+ggas better move proper (grrah, grrah)
i got it on me, i ain’t tryna box up (at all)
’cause i know that these opp n+ggas fanning (i know)
we gon’ bend through they block in a camry
been on my sh+t, so i know you won’t dare me
i’ma flock, i don’t care if you family
backdoor open, but i got my keys, b+tch
opps got shot, and they ain’t ever shot back (they didn’t)
so y’all p+ssy n+ggas need to stop that (uh+huh)
yus gz got shot, never shot back
when i’m off a perc’, i be like, “where the opps at?” (that n+gga a b+tch)
got booked for the knocks, but i bailed out
n+ggas mad when they heard that i slipped out (grrah, grrah)
i ain’t doin’ no sh+t for no d+mn clout (grrah)
d’s on my d+ck so i’m goin’ the other route (grrah, grrah)
talkin’ on bro, we gon’ come to your mother house (ygk)
we gon’ show y’all n+ggas what we really ’bout (ogk)
yus gz got shot, tryna run his mouth (oyk)
kay+kay the bronx got shot and he thug it out (what i’m on)
i knew he was bluffin’, i’m like, “what’s the fuss about?”
tell your sister to take my d+ck out her mouth (suck my d+ck)
b+tches get shot, i don’t care what you talkin’ ’bout
we gon’ go through the hate if they air it out (the f+ck?)
everything dead, if we smokin’, we gon’ clear it out
i’m that n+gga you always gon’ hear about (get my d+ck out your mouth)
walk in the spot, drip on me, i wear it out (i do)
20k on me, i spent that sh+t like a house (like, what?)
all these opp n+ggas know what we did (they do)
i ain’t showin’ no guns in my vid (at all)
had some fan try to take a fl!ck
almost backed out the knock, tryna flock at his wig (grrah, grrah, grrah)
run up on me, you get shot in your sh+t
i ain’t playin’ this sh+t could get lit
ayo bl!ck, got a bl!ck
if a n+gga move wock’, we flock him in his sh+t (grrah+grrah, boom)
ayo tanner, got a whip
that’s a getaway v, n+ggas know what it is (n+ggas know what it is)
lvk, n+ggas know how we get (ahh, lvk)
when we bend through the ‘well, we gon’ go in they sh+t (ahh)
[verse 2: jaydachaserr & cito bl!ck]
i’m with tg loc, b+tch i’m trained to go (like)
[?] brodie gon’ blow
i call up chase, and he slidin’ for sure
if they run into me, better duck and get low
tg my cousin, no cuz, he won’t fold
bl!ck gon’ bl!ck him, if he got the pole (if he got the pole)
[?], i got love for my loccs
only shootin’ from deep if the pole got the scope
n+ggas p+ssy, i don’t worry ’bout opps
especially n+ggas who don’t play they block (like, what?)
talkin’ on the [?], like you be totin’ knocks
then you wound up on the news, for gettin’ shot
how you gettin’ dropped, but you totin’ chops?
tired of n+ggas chattin’ bout sh+t that they not (i’m tired of it)
ain’t no gettin’ back, they just talkin’ hot
’til another drilly end up in a box (ahh)
tote on the clip, keep squeezin’
squeeze ’til it cl!ck, he bleedin’ (bleedin’)
hit more than once, he no longer breathin’ (he no longer breathin’)
talkin’ on bro, then he gotta delete it (grrah+grrah, boom)
shots to his back, have a n+gga heated (ahh)
[?]
if we miss, then we gon’ repeat it
flock at his chest, have that n+gga wheezin’ (ahh)
[verse 3: cito bl!ck & jaydachaser]
like, what? please tell me (like, what? like, what?)
king of the bronx, but you got fake drip (fake drip)
african boy tryna act like he rich
but you cap in your raps, ’cause you never did sh+t
gz to the gz, now you linkin’ with foes (gdk)
stolen sh+t that you say, and you wrote (gdk)
like, what? i don’t understand (ygk)
how you link with them n+ggas, who ran on your mans?
how you doak, and not totin’ a tan?
you hopped out the p+ssy, got gassed by the fans
ran out of luck, and got shot by your mans
let that n+gga keep doin’ his dance
i’ma leave that dumb n+gga right there where he stand (move, look)
glock 23, ain’t no time for the hands (grrah, grrah)
up with the beam, he fallin’ [?]
hollow tip season, rippin’ through his glands, grrah

[outro: jaydachaserr & citobl!ck]
ahh
grrah, grrah
grrah+grrah boom
grrah, like mezzy gang
mezzy gang, grrah grrah
rrah

- tg flockaa lyrics

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