BlocBoy JB - Crip Hopper (Freestyle) lyrics
[BlocBoy JB - Crip Hopper Freestyle lyrics]
See a lot of water, lean in the bottle
Talk with a C so you know we crip
Free my father, and my partner right now
I know that they ain't gon' squeal
Bitch I'm 'bout that action, bitch it's no lackin'
Hundred roudn drum, we gon' put it to his lid (that's on my mama)
Crip street gang, purple flag hangin'
Bitch you know that I'm crip crip crip
Big chopper, lil chopper
You'll get the feet like a Foot Locker
Shots to the head, need a head doctor
I got that cake, call me Bett' Crocker
Big papa, lil papa
I don't like 12, I'm a fed popper (damn)
Niggas that hate, they got bread problems (huh?)
No words, hakuna matata (that's on my mama)
If you a shotta come hop on my roster
I'm hoppin' out shootin at and they a possum
My niggas globetrotters like they come from Harlem
They straight get to sparkin' at whatever problem
Crip crip crip, what's that you hollerin'?
Niggas ain't crip, niggas be flodgin'
Boy your gang fake like them cheap ass Robins
Nigga better scram 'fore I shoot him in the noggin
Whole lot of straps in the back of the car lil nigga
Leave him wet like the Navy Seal
Shoot you in the back with the MAC, act hard lil nigga
Do you know how that shit feel?
Two twenty-five, we pull up lil nigga
My niggas got deals on wheels
AOB, it's all of a bitch lil nigga
We gon' put that bitch in heels
He wanna, she wanna, the way the bitch lookin' make me wanna
You fronted kush, you a weed owner
Hit him with the Glock, give him glaucoma
Gas bag, know you smell the aroma
Trash bag full of nothin' but blue hundreds
Drive fast, crippin' in the blue Honda
I still bang the C's even when I'm with mama
Crip, crip, crip, crip, crip
Talk with a C so you know we crip
Free my father, and my partner right now
I know that they ain't gon' squeal
Bitch I'm 'bout that action, bitch it's no lackin'
Hundred roudn drum, we gon' put it to his lid (that's on my mama)
Crip street gang, purple flag hangin'
Bitch you know that I'm crip crip crip
Big chopper, lil chopper
You'll get the feet like a Foot Locker
Shots to the head, need a head doctor
I got that cake, call me Bett' Crocker
Big papa, lil papa
I don't like 12, I'm a fed popper (damn)
Niggas that hate, they got bread problems (huh?)
No words, hakuna matata (that's on my mama)
If you a shotta come hop on my roster
I'm hoppin' out shootin at and they a possum
My niggas globetrotters like they come from Harlem
They straight get to sparkin' at whatever problem
Crip crip crip, what's that you hollerin'?
Niggas ain't crip, niggas be flodgin'
Boy your gang fake like them cheap ass Robins
Nigga better scram 'fore I shoot him in the noggin
Whole lot of straps in the back of the car lil nigga
Leave him wet like the Navy Seal
Shoot you in the back with the MAC, act hard lil nigga
Do you know how that shit feel?
Two twenty-five, we pull up lil nigga
My niggas got deals on wheels
AOB, it's all of a bitch lil nigga
We gon' put that bitch in heels
He wanna, she wanna, the way the bitch lookin' make me wanna
You fronted kush, you a weed owner
Hit him with the Glock, give him glaucoma
Gas bag, know you smell the aroma
Trash bag full of nothin' but blue hundreds
Drive fast, crippin' in the blue Honda
I still bang the C's even when I'm with mama
Crip, crip, crip, crip, crip