Bris, EBK Young Joc, Young Slo-Be - Bedrock lyrics

(AR Beats, Chris Bone)

This thirty clip hangin' like a dreadlock
(Ah ah ah) since this nigga think he DaBaby
Get your bed rocked (Ah ah ah, ayy)
Who you knockin' out? Take a headshot (Ayy)
Who that nigga clutchin' the pole? Nigga
That's Young Joc (It's the gang)

Ayy, in the Southeast, I need fee fees
Bitch, these hundreds hella raggedy
I'm a neat freak
Cuddy got that G34, he the Greek Freak
Ooh-wee, damn, go hard in the paint
Suckas always talkin' 'bout they slidin'
But they really can't
Posted in front of the store with a chop
Cuddy rolled a stank
These fuck niggas ain't up on my mind
I took her out of state
Call my hood mini Toronto the
Way we play with Dracs, Nigga

This thirty clip hangin' like a dreadlock
Since this nigga think he DaBaby
Get your bed rocked (Ayy)
Who you knockin' out? Take a headshot (Ayy)
Who that nigga clutchin' the pole? Nigga
That's Young Joc (It's the gang)

Bustin'
The Scat' yellow and it's a leopard
Free my brother Hari
He was fuckin' up them extras
Girls back to back
We got no OG to come check us
They locked my aunts down
So I be movin' to the necklace
Paul Wall on me, baby
I ain't come for all that sexin'
For any situation that get sticky
I got weapon
Blow y'all noodles out and go and
Pray in front the reverend
Bitch told me go to hell, well
All dogs go to heaven
I just want the neck, well, biddy
Tell me why you naked
We gon' spin again and
Again when we steppin'
It might just get tricky
We got blicky on the Seven
Slide down this bitch
We droppin' fifties out these cannons
Ghost guns pretty, but they iffy
They be jammin'
Slap-ass niggas cut wrong, they be hammin'
Catch me flippin' 'bows, sendin' hoes
Ain't no scammin'
Catch me flippin' 'bows, sendin' hoes
Ain't no scammin'

Ayy, big pole, when I knock it
Gotta hold it steady
Ain't no question if Bris rockin', bitch
You know I'm ready
Big rocket, when I pop it
It's gon' blow spaghetti
Ain't my fault I do her cold, bitch
You know she let me
I can tell them bitches choosin'
I can see 'em lookin'
I ain't trippin', throw up the deuces
Tell 'em keep it pushin'
I keep an oven in the stove
And I ain't even cookin'
Somethin' iffy about blood
He always leave from bookin'
Hear that pop-pop, uh
Then let them shots follow
I sit back and then I laugh
And watch this thot swallow
Pile on drills and wear masks
You can ask Ralo young Joc bang Belair
But not the black bottle
And yeah, this chopper kickin', ayy
He wanna fight with who?
You don't know I'll run you down
Up in these Nike shoes
Countin' money and shootin' guns is
What I like to do
All these niggas is unhealthy
They don't like the Fruit's
Came home to a bag and I ain't go shoppin'
'Cause I heard them niggas mad
And got me pole poppin'
Long sticks from the Asians
Ling Ling Longstocking
Tricky Dance Moves keep metal
Like he robotin'
Already know they might blow pole
Watch how you look at me
Just left the pen' and DA tried
To throw that book at me
Ayy, baby, lift your chin up, keep look happy
Money sweet up in this trap, my OG cook candy
(Cook dope)