Correction Lyrics spinna by Glaive

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Lyrics

H-H-Hi Dopa! Haha

Check that count
Got a spinna to his throat
Had to use a bullet, bet he crying on the floor
Pop, pop this
Pa-pa-pa-pack on me
Check that count
Got a spinna to his throat
Had to use a bullet, bet he crying on the floor
Pop, pop this
Pa-pa-pa-pack on me

Gimme that!

I'm not even joking when I say I don't need her
At least I got a f**kin' woman, got a Glock if you wan' meet up
I'm with Kurtains, I'm with Wido, in the back, we got a heater
I'm with pposture, I'm with p4rkr, I ain't talking 'bout no Peter
I don't like the confrontation, I'm a fan of conversations
Talk your sh*t bro, I ain't breaking
Look at me, my drink, she laced it

Racks in my wallet, can't fold
And I'm off the horse, so I start to lose control
Yeah, he talkin' sh*t, so we wiping his nose
They got inside me, jumping out the fourth floor
'Bout to take my life, I'm going real low
Silver chain on me, so heavy, move slow
Three weapons on me, in my heart, oh no
Weapon on me, hit my heart, oh no

I got a game we could play, Russian Roulette
I'm ending lives, ain't no russian, now his crew's dead
Yeah, these pills, they got me tired
Call up Wido, I'm taking back cover fire
John
Aye, who's that coming? DOA
What you do? Run away
Need pack, pack, ándale
Think I'm scared? No way
I'm sending bullets, both ways
Shut, the f**k, up and protect me
Tried to break inside of Hell, but my angels wouldn't let me
I got one gold bullet, if you try to f**king tempt me
Gotta couple people in my state, I know they tryna end me
I cannot be friendly
Get them racks, and plenty
Don't get happy, endings
You're stuck on, pretending, yeah

Check that count
Got a spinna to his throat
Had to use a bullet, bet he crying on the floor
Pop, pop this
Pa-pa-pa-pack on me
Check that count
Got a spinna to his throat
Had to use a bullet, bet he crying on the floor
Pop, pop this
Pa-pa-pa-pack on me

I've been going stupid, going mental
Lil boy sad, you in the friend-zone
f**k a studio, recorded in my bedroom
Feel like KKetamine by the way I be racing
Don't hit my DM, if you don't got payment
I don't like to wait, yeah, I'm so impatient
I'ma need a face lift, Dior on my fragrance

Hold up, you just wan't a piece of me
13 Rounds in this Glizzy, I ain't talking 'bout Felicity
Talking sh*t all the time, lil bro, you can't be friends with me
I been up for a minute, with the gang, it's so clear to see
I don't care 'bout your feelings bro, I just want the commas
Everybody moving mad fun, I don't care about the drama
I got hoes on my Dms, I ain't talking 'bout Mo Bamba
All black on my fit, yeah bro, that's my favorite color

f**k this, I ain't f**kin' with your bullsh*t
Know you act stupid so I'm emptying a full clip
On your head, I wish that I was dead
'Cause I don't wanna speak at all
I'm not downing the sight, unless it's in my favor
Trying something new, I ain't f**king with the flavor
Yeah, you're goin' out sad, please don't try to chase her
And I'm posted in a cell, I don't care 'bout good behavior

Eyes on you, you got eyes on me
Shoutout Quinn, SS03
With [?], I'm with Kwuzi
Rolling off your body (Hee, hee, hee) Huh?
b*t*h I'm laughing 'cause you funny
This made this, your, this, talking sh*t
b*t*h ass, b*t*h
And nothing else coming at your mouth, but a Glick (And a d**k)
You ain't talking, when I'm checking that count

Check that count
Got a spinna to his throat
Had to use a bullet, bet he crying on the floor
Pop, pop this
Pa-pa-pa-pack on me
Check that count
Got a spinna to his throat
Had to use a bullet, bet he crying on the floor
Pop, pop this
Pa-pa-pa-pack on me

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