Glockboyz Teejaee, Skilla Baby - Bird Flu lyrics

Mhm, GlockBoyz, nigga
Free Broad Day, you know the vibes, nigga
You know what the fuck goin' on, ayy

Remember Gucci dropped that Bird Flu in 2007
Before I kept a gun and could
Lose my life any second
Probably way better than jail
But free my niggas out of Heaven
I tap bro like, "Press record"
And I start preachin' like the reverend
The good die young
I don't know what Roddy was talkin' 'bout
With a fifty round they shot my
Nigga at his mama house
Seven days straight, man
It wasn't shit for us to cry about
Ridin' 'round the city like we
Was tryna buy a house

Ask around, man
I still be on that dumb shit's a kid
Man, fuck all them views, I like huntin' shit
Man, still be with them niggas
Out hеre runnin' shit
Man, I was in the streets when I was
A kid, I don't know how to play
Don't touch shit
Ayy, tеll the nigga it's for sure
Just bring a hundred clips
I got a hundred guns
Ayy, we ain't gon' talk about the choppers
We got a hundred of 'em with a hundred on it
I'm mad as hell, we made the news
We need another stolie
These niggas Soulja Boys, I don't crank that
You got a big Draco in my hood
I might just take that
Man, these niggas Lil Bow Wow
They be big cappin'
How I be hidin'? Every day I be
In big traffic with Mag on me
Niggas out here broke as hell
Already they just has-beens
I'm already on the next wave
You can come and get a splash from me
Wasn't goin' to school unless I had
Some shit like my dad money
Stash money, cash money, Juvenile
My niggas stupid wild, we ride around
Two hundred rounds
In the hood like Tommy be with Jerry
Don't bring no rats around
Man, you ran, right? You really
Ain't got your gun, brody, pat 'em down
Man, you can't come around no more
We already gunned you down

Remember Gucci dropped that Bird Flu in 2007
Before I kept a gun and could
Lose my life any second
Probably way better than jail
But free my niggas out of Heaven
I tap bro like, "Press record"
And I start preachin' like the reverend
I know the good die young
I don't know what Roddy was talkin' 'bout
With a fifty round they shot my
Nigga at his mama house seven days straight
But it wasn't shit for us to cry about
Ridin' around the city like we
Was tryna buy a house

Bird flu, what that mean, bricks in the air?
Next season Mike Amiri on, these bitches rare
I got ten times what I
Paid stuffed in every pair
Drum kit on my sticks, I don't like the snare
I get a nigga pressed like a button
I got power, I can turn him to a ghost
That ain't nothin'
I'll beat a nigga ass for real
Scrappin' with my cousin
And they always pass me the strap
'cause I'm bustin'
Rob his ass? Hm, nah, drop his ass
Ice on, stick on me, slidin' in a hockey mask
He don't wanna die
How many times I gotta pop his ass?
Take off on a opp, Jimmy Neutron, gotta blast
(Ha) these hoes, hm, do what we say
TeeJaee got a bucket
I wish I could see the replay
I like the opps music
I don't say shit to the DJ
My shooter come from down south
Bowls come from LA (Mm)
Rucci kicks on the whip, where the valet?
We get frontends and backends and back pay
Got the hoes in, all of my friends in
The straps in