wooh da kid – laid down lyrics
hook:
riding with my ar with me (what?)
thuggin in the jungle with slimmy (ughh!)
posted on the block with my tre pound (trey pound)
playin with my chips you’ll get laid down (bow bow)
riding with my ar with me (ar)
thuggin in the jungle with slimmy (wooh)
posted on the block with my tre pound (trey pound)
playin with my chips you’ll get laid down (r.i.p.)
(hook)
wooh da kid:
posted on the block with my fn, (what)
fully loaded 20 shots that’s my best friend. (bow bow)
its mr. strap-a-holics now i’m reloaded. (ughh)
i’m a man of my word, mother f-cker quote it. (kidd)
ridin with my ar front seat. (bow)
bring havoc to your block wooh da mob deep.(mob)
fetti gang ridin packed that’s the line up. (mob)
disrespect my squad that will get you lined up. (ughh)
(hook)
ar quest:
five dot five six millimeter
five n-ggas in the whip
k!lla speakers, this tre pound, chipz
wife beater, slimmy with me know he got them chilli heaters
for wooh i bust the tool if a n-gga creep up
duck tape body parts that’s a sleeper
thuggin like its nothin tell that sucka speak up
it’s 808 bsm tell em keep up
(hook)
slimmy:
bang bang rat-a-tata watch the crowd scatta
n-ggas p-ssin me off, i got a bad bladder
b-tch i’m a monster, make people run and scream
i gotta ar-15, i tote it in my jeans
we got grew up off of guns and danger
that chopper got me feelin like a power ranger, its danger
don’t argue with these n-ggas i’m pullin out takin aim
you standin close enough b-tch i’m burnin you with the flames
(hook)
tre pound:
its tre pound and imma, sun of a gun
got goons to earth a n-gga like third rock from the sun
now we keep yo b-tch on c-ck like a gun jammed
they say i got a flow like im possessed, son of sam
we playin fastball, you pitchin underhand
and if you ain’t talkin bout money then we don’t understand
they say pound snitchin not.. can’t be
the only d.a. i talk to is deb antney
(hook)
chipz ru:
you f-ggots ain’t ready i can bring you to the jungle
you n-ggas is soft you ain’t ready for this rumble
i can make it crumble you ain’t ready for this pressure
bsm and fetti gang i leave em on a stretcher
my ar and everything
tre pound he gone let it ring
you can let it gun sound, hit em with that flocka flame
these b-tches is dumb found, but they give a lot a brain
so that make it feel good, they just grip alot a grain
(hook)
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