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letra de gripping the glock - america's most wanted

[verse 1]
biggety-bop, biggety-bop, creepin’ down another fool’s block
then with that facemask down, finna chrome shot
boom boom, bustin’ up into your hat rack
i’m peelin’ caps back, splittin’ n-ggas’ kool-aid packs
that’s why i roll with my windows tint
with my mac on the seat cuz i’m a threat to what they represent
buck buck, n-gga, lay down
biggety-blam, biggety-blam, you motherf-ckers better stay down!
this buck run up, try to buck up
i’ll let this glock one eighty seven dance and you’ll be f-cked up
abra kadabra and dust to dust
my people one eighty seven, buck buck, when i bust
bing bing, bing, with them lethal hands
now they blood in sand cuz that phat 4-5 jammed
i had to box with the po-pos
they tried to mock a motherf-cker and treat me like a yo-yo
i had to straight pull a gaffle
i let them chambers go and left his back in the gravel

[hook]
doin’ houdinis like a genie grippin’ the hot glock
straight jackin’, straight jackin’
doin’ houdinis like a genie grippin’ the hot glock
straight jackin’, straight jackin’
[verse 2]
step back, make a hole for the loc d-ck
n-ggas jock when i drop this dope sh-t
n-gga, pop, n-gga, drop, n-gga, pop pop
tear it off in that ass two four seven with this hot glock
hollow tips got ’em jacked back, i’m like a black gnat
cuz i be peelin’ n-ggas’ caps back
psycho, return of the dead
i got this glock givin’ motherf-ckers pumpkinheads
i’m a maniac, lunatic, n-gga, no f-ckin’ chips
i hit the toxic blunt, now i’m seein’ sh-t
n-gga, what? n-gga, blam! leave ’em all dead
i’ll let this glock tap dance on your forehead
bring it to ’em like this
a rat a tat a tat, boom, hocus pocus, b-tch!

[hook]
doin’ houdinis like a genie grippin’ the hot glock
straight jackin’
doin’ houdinis like a genie grippin’ the hot glock
straight jackin’, straight jackin’
doin’ houdinis like a genie grippin’ the hot glock
straight jackin’, straight jackin’

[verse 3]
tiggety-trip, tiggety-trip, don’t trip, no sh-t
flip the clips, cuz they take
riggety-rippin’ like norman bates
i hit the blunt and now i’m tip-top
i got them black mac-11 clips taped to my flip-flops
i’m like a nighty-night stalker (ooh!)
lightin’ up sh-t cuz i’m a motherf-ckin’ mobster
biggety-block! f-ck it, let’s toe-tag ’em
my chopper’s spittin’ fire, so you know they had to bodybag ’em
n-gga, they whole family got toe-tagged
i left the scene lookin’ like a bliggety-bloodbath
with bl–dy sh-t drippin’ from my figgety-facemask
the pet bird made a noise so i bucked his ass
a maniac, don’t f-ck with me
cuz i’mma pop that ass in front of god and everybody
a buck wild try to buck up
i’ll let this glock one eighty seven dance and you’ll be f-cked up
[hook]
doin’ houdinis like a genie grippin’ the hot glock
straight jackin’, straight jackin’
doin’ houdinis like a genie grippin’ the hot glock
straight jackin’, straight jackin’
doin’ houdinis like a genie grippin’ the hot glock
straight jackin’, straight jackin’
doin’ houdinis like a genie grippin’ the hot glock
straight sidewayz

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