CORRECT LYRICS
Lyrics : Going Hyphy
B*t*h, whew (Damn, Glocky, you ain't have to do ’em like that)
(Slide on 'em Sheffon)
Doggy twelve, acting like the sheriff (Fed)
How I'm feelin’, I might go and catch a flight to Paris (Fyoo)
How I'm feelin', I might spend like ninety on the chain
SBDSM, we trippin', going hyphy in the Bay
Throw it, that's a touchdown (Six)
F**k a hundred, I was taught to keep it one thou' (Thousand)
You got some nerve if I don't know you, tryna come 'round
Swervin’ down the opps block, all they heard was gun sounds (Bow)
Like, sh*t, where you finna run? (Come here)
Like, sh*t, three-five got me feelin’ numb (I'm blowed)
Like, sh*t, that’s light pape', boy, you still a bum (Crumb)
Like, sh*t, four years later, yeah, we still them ones (Yeah)
Like, sh*t, boy (Yeah), like sh*t (Brrt, sh*t)
Ha-ha, like, sh*t (Sh*t)
Big Glockiana but the jeans tight fit (Amiri)
Sip Wockiana all night type sh*t (Whew)
Runnin' 'round throwing bullets at him, Mike Vick (Fah, fah)
You don’t wanna hit this 'Wood, this some opp pack
No, I don't care about that b*t*h, she a throwback (Whew)
Roll another 'Wood and forget about 'em
Crazy how I'm ridin' with the Drac' and I came from the bottom (Frrt)
I can teach you how to do it, Gregg Popovich
Really demigods when we drop, we don't ever miss (Crazy)
Dawg was talkin' down, I went and hit his sis' (I did)
You not even cut to blow it, why you got a blick? (Why?)
Five hundred dollar shirt, left the tag on (Bought)
We know that's not yo' sh*t, that's your mans roll (That's your dogsh*t)
Deep pockets always stuffed with green like a egg roll
If I say it's up, they on your top just like some headphones (Ha, ha, ha, whew)
Six b*t*hes in the room, it's a slumber party (Okay)
Dawg ain't even got a whip but went and got some Carti's (Huh?)
If I ever hit your b*t*h, my n***a, I ain't sorry (Nah)
She a freak, money make her wet like Kalahari
Sh*t, huh, okay
I might f**k around and start a tidal wave when I'm in Magic City
Tell the boys, "Come get me," do the race, we pull up Scat or Kitty
Bro be paranoid, he be done popped you, catch you at the iffy
B*t*h is simple-minded, bet she f**k I show the stack of Benji's
Pulled up thinkin' we gon' fight? I'm laughing while I rack the semi
In the AMG, I'm active, you can't trip in traffic with me
Been workin' on a milli', I ain't even see you stack a fifty
Matter fact, I ain't seen you stack a dub up
Wearin' all my ice like Vezzo, finna f**k the club up
Got it out the dirt but unky still be pourin' mud up
Turtle Pie or Gary Payton, brodie say his lungs stuck
SBDSM my babies, everything we do amazing
Had to tell the teller every bill, I want the bluest faces
Say it ain't no Wock' around, so unky poured a deuce of Quagen
All these f**kin' chains and all these whips, you'd think my crew be slavin'
(Slide on 'em Sheffon)
Doggy twelve, acting like the sheriff (Fed)
How I'm feelin’, I might go and catch a flight to Paris (Fyoo)
How I'm feelin', I might spend like ninety on the chain
SBDSM, we trippin', going hyphy in the Bay
Throw it, that's a touchdown (Six)
F**k a hundred, I was taught to keep it one thou' (Thousand)
You got some nerve if I don't know you, tryna come 'round
Swervin’ down the opps block, all they heard was gun sounds (Bow)
Like, sh*t, where you finna run? (Come here)
Like, sh*t, three-five got me feelin’ numb (I'm blowed)
Like, sh*t, that’s light pape', boy, you still a bum (Crumb)
Like, sh*t, four years later, yeah, we still them ones (Yeah)
Like, sh*t, boy (Yeah), like sh*t (Brrt, sh*t)
Ha-ha, like, sh*t (Sh*t)
Big Glockiana but the jeans tight fit (Amiri)
Sip Wockiana all night type sh*t (Whew)
Runnin' 'round throwing bullets at him, Mike Vick (Fah, fah)
You don’t wanna hit this 'Wood, this some opp pack
No, I don't care about that b*t*h, she a throwback (Whew)
Roll another 'Wood and forget about 'em
Crazy how I'm ridin' with the Drac' and I came from the bottom (Frrt)
I can teach you how to do it, Gregg Popovich
Really demigods when we drop, we don't ever miss (Crazy)
Dawg was talkin' down, I went and hit his sis' (I did)
You not even cut to blow it, why you got a blick? (Why?)
Five hundred dollar shirt, left the tag on (Bought)
We know that's not yo' sh*t, that's your mans roll (That's your dogsh*t)
Deep pockets always stuffed with green like a egg roll
If I say it's up, they on your top just like some headphones (Ha, ha, ha, whew)
Six b*t*hes in the room, it's a slumber party (Okay)
Dawg ain't even got a whip but went and got some Carti's (Huh?)
If I ever hit your b*t*h, my n***a, I ain't sorry (Nah)
She a freak, money make her wet like Kalahari
Sh*t, huh, okay
I might f**k around and start a tidal wave when I'm in Magic City
Tell the boys, "Come get me," do the race, we pull up Scat or Kitty
Bro be paranoid, he be done popped you, catch you at the iffy
B*t*h is simple-minded, bet she f**k I show the stack of Benji's
Pulled up thinkin' we gon' fight? I'm laughing while I rack the semi
In the AMG, I'm active, you can't trip in traffic with me
Been workin' on a milli', I ain't even see you stack a fifty
Matter fact, I ain't seen you stack a dub up
Wearin' all my ice like Vezzo, finna f**k the club up
Got it out the dirt but unky still be pourin' mud up
Turtle Pie or Gary Payton, brodie say his lungs stuck
SBDSM my babies, everything we do amazing
Had to tell the teller every bill, I want the bluest faces
Say it ain't no Wock' around, so unky poured a deuce of Quagen
All these f**kin' chains and all these whips, you'd think my crew be slavin'
