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letra de checkers (chucky) - glokk40spaz

[intro]
whoa, you so p-ssy, y’all so p-ssy, we ain’t stuntin’
(on the way)

[verse]
whoa, yeah, yeah, mobb
what’s yo’ choice, you want that pressure?
be on 10, n-gga, i’m gon’ k!ll the one who sent that message
just caught that n-gga talkin’ crazy on the gram, that give me leverage
his b-tch got good head, she suck my d-ck and drink my nut like beverage
put a .30 on a glock 19, and i call that hoe the devil
huh, i ain’t gotta say nun’ to these p-ssy ass n-ggas, my momma even know i’m a rebel
you ain’t doin’ this sh-t, n-ggas not even on the same level
glock hittin’ sh-t just like aaron smeltzer

[verse 2]
yah, get that feeling, go do k!llin’s, i get wicked, with that glizzy
stock so bad, kickback so filthy
f-ck that boy, kickback, go drill him
know that b-tch mad that it’s switchin’
should of known when i was locked up, she was f-ckin’ up my head and i can’t feel it
whoa told me he caught another d-mn hat and i got jiggy
i don’t pick and choose the opps, if we gon’ whack one, let’s go get ’em
whoa said he want this hat this time, then n-gga, i’an trippin’
i’m just sayin’, boy, get back this time, this muhf-cka hit so deadly
i ain’t playin’ with these n-ggas, i shoot this glock, and i’m not lucky
got this mac on me, this metal arm, that boy call me lil’ bucky
i get mad when they treat me like a ragdoll, i cut they face like chucky
n-gga playin’ with bl, his ass gon’ die, i k!ll a n-gga, talkin’ ’bout stuffin’
she jus’ wanna smoke my joy, this b-tch a junkie
4 man down, swish cheese, they call hoe “smell, fungus’
they try lil’ glokk, b-tch i’m gon’ pop, i ain’t playin’, b-tch, i’m top bunkie
put a hole in his stomach, like a donut, ain’t talkin’ ’bout dunkin’
[verse 3]
i get swifty with this glizzy, i be actin’ up
i ain’ gon’ lie, sometimes i really don’t give a f-ck
i get by, just to get high, i fell in love with drugs
look at this size of this glock .40, b-tch i won’t knuckle up
huh, smack that b-tch with my d-ck, i told the b-tch “pucker up”
you ain’t got no stamp, or you not srt, f-ck boy, you can’t hang with us
don’t f-ck with us ’cause they p-ssy, and they know lil’ glokk so dangerous
i be dolo with a big stick in my bag, n-gga won’t go for nun’
i get ratchet when i pop out, i was locked up for six months
b-tch, i’m psyched out, and i’m throwed, he play with me, i bust him up
i’ma rich young b-st-rd, b-tch, these chrome heart cut’s
all my feelings in my nut’s, i put my d-ck all in her guts
it’s egyptian serial codes on this bl!ck, for king tut
i up this glock on this b-tch, too, boy, i don’t give no f-ck
talm ’bout the mobb, i do that job, he talm ’bout he throwed, that bih get cut
all these hoes, they all fanned out, and be f-ckin’, these hoes some sl-ts

- glokk40spaz

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