letra de blue pro club - shyboytakemoney
across the valley, valley, valley
weaving all threw traffic, race the homies down on the one-eleven, i’m changing lanes not changing up and i’m in the cutt just tryna get it, pro-club jacket with the furr and heater up in my pendleton, stompin’ up in my cortez’s too they already know i’m the flyest ese, hotboxed up inside the whip behind the clouds and the window tint, m-o-b forever homie never will i going broke again, i won’t liе i’m still living scandalous till the whole team with mе rich, poppin’ pistols just like a 30, purple hairs up inside the zip, colors pouring up inside my cup bout as dirty as the dollar bills, pocket scale chilling on the dash and im tryna hold this carro still, posted up with all the homies up inside the barrio still, blow the smoke out from the barrel emptying out these cuerno clips, blue steel with the infrared, with a blue rag tied around it, cuete’s tucked with extended clips in a ben davis and a dodgers hat, never cruise around the valley homie, rolling round with no banger packed, cause i’m on the creep and i’m crawling just like those strings on a spiderweb, might get the doors with l.e.d. and neon lights when you open it, tryna replace all the seats with spider seats up inside the whip, maxing out inside these engines crashing rentals with the turbo-kit, just like a sp-ceship driving in the ride like can you feel all the turbalance? blazing trails up and down the block the neighborhood we circling trucha too when you mobbin cuz the 7-6-0 active with it, got the sickness? plus i’m the sickest h-ll yeah its the shiesty one, shyboy ese yeah ima king but they like “he a trifled one,” like troubles said it raiiders logo instead with a knife and gun, poppin’ bottles in our section, homie like what side you want? dancing with my guns up ese right after i light this blunt, dancing with my guns up ese right after i light this blunt, shyboy
weaving all threw traffic, race the homies down the one-eleven, i’m changing lanes not changing up, i’m in the cutt just tryna get it, pro-club jacket with the furr and heater in my pendleton, stompin’ up in my cortes’z too they already know i’m the flyest ese, hotboxed up inside the whip behind the clouds and the window tint, m-o-b forever homie never will i going broke again
across the valley, valley, valley
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