Checkers (Chucky) lyrics

[Intro]
Whoa, you so pus*y, y'all so pus*y, 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' kill 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 di*k 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 pus*y 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 killin'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 damn 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 next 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 kill a n*gga, he talkin' 'bout stuffy'
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, 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 di*k, I told the b*tch "Pucker up"
You ain't got no stamp, or if you ain't SRT, f*ck boy, you can't hang with us
Don't f*ck with us 'cause they pus*y, 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 bast*rd, b*tch, these Chrome Heart cut's
All my feelings in my nut's, I put my di*k all in her guts
It's Egyptian serial codes on this blick, 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