Corrección Letra Check the Lock par clipping.

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Letra

Hood used to check for him when he'd pull up flexing
Now he check under the hood 'fore he start the engine
Came out the stash house, something didn't smell right
He on the ground trying to look up in the tailpipe
Mighty fall for a mighty man
Had a manicure, now it's dirt and oil on his hands
Staying low as he scrambles to the car door
Glad it's just a short trip to the condo
No signal, head on a swivel
Hand on the center console with the pistol
Tinted black, got the window right
Always shoot the gap at the yellow light
Bag of little yellow pills for thе nerves
But it makes it еven worse when the Xannys don't work
And he panic, ears ringing, when you call, he can't hear you
Every seven seconds, eyes back up in the rearview

Something in this room didn't used to be
Gin bottle to the face, can't fool the G
Laughing at him, he ain't ever scared, though
But he check the lock every time he walk by the door
Check the lock every time he walk by the door
Check the lock every time he walk by the door
He run the motherfucking city, yeah, they know
But he check the lock every time he walk by the door

Never park right outside where he live
He don't want his ride outside his crib
'Cause they might roll by, recognize it
And then come inside at night ready to fire with
Guns like he ain't got none
Joke's on them when his Uzi weigh a ton
Get out the car slow, always walk, never run, find a busy block
Keep his hand locked on the trigger case they figure
It's a fun day someday, no, he don't play
No, they one day know he gon' pay
But they best hope they no make no mistake
He ain't goin' soft just 'cause he got Olay
On his hands now, VVS gleamin'
Staying off the phone, no one chasing where he bein'
Never trust another man walking by cheesin'
Never catch him sleep, he won't let the bad dreams win

Lights out, can't nobody see in
But he see the lights outside, they be creepin'
He behind the blinds, but the four-five peekin'
Thought he heard the sirens, maybe he was tweakin'
Now he got the Seagram's bottle to the face, can't fool the G
Told his brother to be ready with the eulogy
They laughed about it, but he hoped he really did it
Wall clock clickin', getting louder by the minute
That second hand shit got to go
He be on that new-new, everybody know
Gucci to they Fubu, they fucking with a pro
Money to the ceiling, so it's Persian on the floor
Used to be shoes off, but it's never that
Since he found the metal shavings waiting by the welcome mat
Every day stuck, keep the heater tucked
They got him sleeping in his Chucks

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