Nightmare On Ballground lyrics

by

Glokk40Spaz


[Intro]
(Ain’t sh*t, young ass n*gga sh*t)
(n*gga gon’ pop out, b*tch, you know we gon’-)
(Blitz some for the mob, n*gga)
Yeah (On every whoas outside)
Mmm-mmm (All my shooters foreign)
(Look at all these whoas outside)
(n*gga ain’t playin’, on mob) (Hahahaha)

[Verse 1]
We had five guns, when we did that to Jerry
They tryna call 12 but that’s not necessary
I shoot at the opps, they call me Jason Terry
Already knew you gon’ call it off, n*gga, you scary
Fye f*ck up his stomach like he can’t eat dairy
He ain’t ‘een pop his gun in the shootout, we carried
I put my fist in the pot and I whip it like Harry
I’m wit’ some Vampires, why the f*ck you keep starin’?
He don’t got no motion, it’s slow like a snail
Call that boy Gary
Go to the Eastside then we raise hell
Me and the Glock married
I’m thuggin’ tryna stay away from police, can’t go back to jail
I let the Glock sing like Mariah Carey
Don’t try to run up here, n*gga, I double dare
F & N wit’ the Draco, n*gga, right there
That bih’ too stuck up, hell nah, we don’t like her
Show the luh’ pus*y baby we don’t like him
b*tch on my di*k, my another hoe wan’ fight her
Fazo locked up and they camped out that boy locked at Rikers
Glock go missin’, I’m the number one Striker
Tell that ho, “Gon’ kill ‘em, go head, pipe up”
Huh, five Backwoods rolled, we ain’t got no lighter
[Verse 2]
Huh, I hit the plug up, ask, “How much for a QP?”
He said he got different deals, said this sh*t up to me
He said he gon’ f*ck wit’ my gang ‘cause he f*ck wit’ me (Bet)
Huh, “Let me get two half's, I’ll pay you in cash”
“Oh, you want a zip? Say less, where you at?”
“On the Eastside wit’ Crip, juh’ pull up on Spaz”
HE PULLED UP, GOT FLIPPED, I SMOKED ALL HIS GAS
He woke up, he tripped, he lost that whole bag
Got took through the swamp by a n*gga named Spaz
All my brothers, we some whoas, we don’t need name tags
n*ggas kickin’ down yo’ door wit’ no face mask
Baby, just look at the floor if you see me, juh’ know yo’ ass is grass
Talkin crazy on the ‘Gram, we catch ‘em, extend that boy ‘mag
I’m a Vampire but snaked his ass bad
Wit’ a luh’ vibe, know she real bad
I got soul ties wit’ the 30 ‘mag
n*gga dead flies, when we catch his ass
Then hog tied, put ‘em in a bag
Wrap his ass up, ship ‘em to Japan
Know it’s guns up, n*gga, f*ck yo’ man
He play both sides, call that boy a Tran’
(b*tch)

[Verse 3]
Me and my whoas, we don’t give no f*ck
We ain’t crashin’ out but for sure gon’ buck
Pull out that Glock, shoot yo’ damn hand, f*ck yo’ knuckle up
Fye on my hand, don’t do no knuckle up
Interrogation room, jus’ shut the f*ck up
We need hundon, this sh*t ain’t enough
Like a Wonton, Glock heat ‘em up (Wonton)
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