Maxo Kream, UnoTheActivist, Yung Gleesh - Spiced lyrics

(Check, aight, go) crack table
Black table where we shootin craps at
(craps)
Ass crack, boof pack, Act gon' pass that
We past that
30 thousand dollars in the hatchback
Flashback, abstract like who da told pet pack
Knapsack, 30 pints of syrup no flapjack
(flapjack) she take a nigga down, no talkin
No flap back
Young nigga sound like me no sand sack
Sand sack for a billion dollars
To get wet wet what the Hell Gleesh talk
About bein back back?
40 gram up and get down they toe check that
Flauntin all down and off and dal
And off a private jet i'm a get it
Who ya kiddin? I ain't get challenged yet
Head shot drink (drink) stand up drink (sip)
Sit down drink
(drink) , and I ain't lose my balance yet!

I need to roll a blunt
Ya, what ah ya what hah huh
Coolin on the block smokin dope to the face
Niggas gettin smoked on the block erryday
Partna he a crook of the partner Nine Trey
Sending out the shots, it get hot erryday
Movin out the block with the stalk
Set up shop
Mixin up the red with the wop with the work
Oh yeah, free the Wop
Throw the guap on the thot (bitch)
Diamonds in my watch
All you niggas finna watch (hey)
(what ya what ay ya what what
What ay ya what what ay ya what what)
They wanna fuck with my team
I keep me a chopper it came with a beam (oh)
No janitor I got the keys these bitches
They comin straight for the beast
All of my dope please
It will turn any nigga to a fiend
I swear to god now these bitches they come
No way these bitches won't leave
I keep a drum, loud rututututm
The Bentleys they up in my sleeve (ya)
Niggas they come, but I keep a bum
Or leave a nigga on his knees (what)
Bitches they come, mollies on tongue
Now all my hoes get along
I feel like I don't belong
I guess I'm on VLONE

Ay take that nigga down
Hit him for those pounds then you leave
Not a sound kick a nigga door
Tie him up with the zip tie
Stomped on a nigga
Yeah I don't let shit fly
Killers on his head, do the
Drop for a quick toe
I ain't never been a bitch
Squeeze on the chopper till the gun go click
(doot) dogs goin bark
Keep it low like Vick (like Vick)
Serving out the trap with the extendo
Sticks, going for the six-four
No nintendo shit (uh huh)
Sixty for them wops, they three a pop
We got a lot
We pull up on your block, we set up shop
We give em out
Mix Hi Tech with that wop with soda pop
It's for my cough (cough)
Got ten packs of them Xannies
They go for Peyton Manning
Double wrap and seal the
Pack, hollows, hydros, dirty ratchets
Frontin in that spinach, cabbage
Gasses, masks, smashes, spazzin
Catchin blasts, hold the casket
Hi Tech blastin, taste for taxin
Leave the package down at
Franklin, Reptar niggas, we Jurassic