Key Glock - Who Run It (Freestyle) lyrics
[Key Glock - Who Run It Freestyle lyrics]
Gang shit no lame shit
Ayy you know we been doing this shit nigga
Yeah, yeah
Little nigga, big bands
Think I need hammer pants
Hop in and I hit the gas
Yeah bitch I did the dash
Hittin' these hoes like running
Backs, my bad, who ho is that?
I be turnt up to the max
I broke the thermostat
Yeah, I be fresh as hell
Make a bitch stop and stare
Colder than a polar bear, came off of welfare
Now I'm out in Bel-Air
Killin' shit where the chair?
Ran it up, didn't use the stairs
I'm on another level
I wake up with the birds
Yeah I gotta get a check
Never fall off, yeah, that's what mama said
I gave her a couple racks, yeah
And my mama said boy you better not put a
Bitch before your bread
I got gold gold on my throat
Diamonds in my teeth (ice)
Clarity, clarity, clarity, clarity
All this ice on me (ice)
Got this bad bitch with blonde hair
I call her Russian Cream
And I got that baby chopper
I'll rock your ass to sleep
Can't stand me, take a seat
(ho) , designer head to feet, yeah
Everything on fleek, Cartier on me, yeah
I dress like a geek, yeah
Boy your swag is weak, yeah
That shit is so cheap
Yeah, my shit overseas, yeah
I'm fly like a butterfly and
I sting like a bee, yeah
Call me Glock Ali, yeah
Diamonds fighting like Tina
Turner, bitch I turn up, Royal Rumble
Thirty niggas with me and you know
They ready to burn you
Knuck if you buck, run up and you get done up
No I'm not from Louisville
But bitch I keep my slugger
Straight up out the jungle
Ain't no talk or tussle
Got no time to scuffle
I'm 'bout my chips like Ruffles
Workin like a butler, ain't no more struggle
Tell these niggas catch up
Tennis chains mustard
Ran up my racks, run and tell that
Ran through a bag and got
That shit right back
These niggas ain't doing shit
These niggas ain't talkin' jack
You niggas ain't running shit
This chopper make you run a lap
Yeah glizzock
Ayy you know we been doing this shit nigga
Yeah, yeah
Little nigga, big bands
Think I need hammer pants
Hop in and I hit the gas
Yeah bitch I did the dash
Hittin' these hoes like running
Backs, my bad, who ho is that?
I be turnt up to the max
I broke the thermostat
Yeah, I be fresh as hell
Make a bitch stop and stare
Colder than a polar bear, came off of welfare
Now I'm out in Bel-Air
Killin' shit where the chair?
Ran it up, didn't use the stairs
I'm on another level
I wake up with the birds
Yeah I gotta get a check
Never fall off, yeah, that's what mama said
I gave her a couple racks, yeah
And my mama said boy you better not put a
Bitch before your bread
I got gold gold on my throat
Diamonds in my teeth (ice)
Clarity, clarity, clarity, clarity
All this ice on me (ice)
Got this bad bitch with blonde hair
I call her Russian Cream
And I got that baby chopper
I'll rock your ass to sleep
Can't stand me, take a seat
(ho) , designer head to feet, yeah
Everything on fleek, Cartier on me, yeah
I dress like a geek, yeah
Boy your swag is weak, yeah
That shit is so cheap
Yeah, my shit overseas, yeah
I'm fly like a butterfly and
I sting like a bee, yeah
Call me Glock Ali, yeah
Diamonds fighting like Tina
Turner, bitch I turn up, Royal Rumble
Thirty niggas with me and you know
They ready to burn you
Knuck if you buck, run up and you get done up
No I'm not from Louisville
But bitch I keep my slugger
Straight up out the jungle
Ain't no talk or tussle
Got no time to scuffle
I'm 'bout my chips like Ruffles
Workin like a butler, ain't no more struggle
Tell these niggas catch up
Tennis chains mustard
Ran up my racks, run and tell that
Ran through a bag and got
That shit right back
These niggas ain't doing shit
These niggas ain't talkin' jack
You niggas ain't running shit
This chopper make you run a lap
Yeah glizzock