A.L.T. - 17 Shots lyrics

Seventeen shots in my clip
I'm rolling through the hood
Motherfuckers don't trip
Then I saw the liquor store
Where they shot Little Joe
Hanging out the window, puffing on some endo
The owner's on his knees
And he's out in the front
Cleaning up the blood from Little Joe
I dropped my blunt
All Joe wanted was a six pack of Bud
But the owners fingers itched
Now my homies in the mud
I pulled out my nine without even thinking
Plus I was high as a kite
And I've been drinking
Only three blocks from the police station
But, I pulled the trigger three times
No hesitation
As I sped away, I put the nine at my hip
I only got fourteen shots in my clip
Now the cops was on my ass in 'bout a minute
It's all about a foot game
I knows I'm gonna win it
I'm hopping over walls dodging little dogs
Then I got ghost like a phantom in the fog
I'm hiding in the bushes
Shitting at the coppers
Then I took five shots
I'm hiding from the lights on the choppers
And I know I'm facing death
I made it to my heina's pad, nine shots left

It's a trip, better not slip
Just a little story about a Glock nine clip
It's a trip, better not slip
Just a little story about a Glock nine clip

I'm the type of vato that
Never had a good day
I gotta watch my back when
I creep through my hood, hey
I woke up in the morning
I'm next to my heina
"Baby, wake up, yo" and then I got behind her
You should've seen that ass
I was just about to pound it
Then I heard the cops say
"We got the place surrounded
Come out with your hands up, son"
Then I broke the window with
The butt of my gun
I fired at the cops two pairs of gunshots
I used up four of my shots, I got the Glock
Seventeen with the hollow points
Fuck these motherfuckers
So I spark me up a joint
I only got five shots, twenty-five cops
The man with the megaphone resembles my pops
So I gunshot
Took him out with a shot to the chest
Stupid motherfucker forgot his vest
Oh, shit, I better not slip
I only got four shots left in my clip
Now the SWAT team came, I better think fast
Here comes the tear gas, that's my ass
I'm out the back, I almost made it
But the cop's black German
Shepherd means I'm faded
Then I had to think of my lucky number seven
I shot him three times and sent
His ass to doggy heaven
Yo here come the pigs, think quick
I pointed my nine but the gat went click
Then I felt my body get numb and it's a trip
Just a little story about a Glock nine clip

It's a trip, better not slip
Just a little story about a Glock nine clip
It's a trip, better not slip
Just a little story about a Glock nine clip

It's a trip, better not slip
Just a little story about a Glock nine clip
It's a trip, better not slip
Just a little story about a Glock nine clip