Chorus 2x
We won, we won
And then we shot that BB gun
And they lost, and they lost
cause we took they shit, now its time to floss
22 year old 17 war vet
Life in the fast-lane, little red corvette
Little red handkerchief, hangin out the right side
Back pocket jeans fallin, Couple my evisu signed
Yep we do shine, and they gon’ hate
But they hated Jesus baby we won’t break
So we ride like 4 Pirelli’s
So secured no security, no protectin no comparing
Lok and heavy, Ocean 11
Aviators, both tickers, so figures
No playas, I’m Hollygrove to the heart
Hollygrove from the start
Don’t cross Earhardt
Boulevard where the ward I come from
17, one shot, never that (blum blum)
Brrrt Brrrt! Pop Pop! Clap Clap!
What the f**k, Hollygrove stand up Nigga!
Chorus
Get ‘em get ‘em Weezy hit ‘em where you kill ‘em easy
Sit em in the river, leave em, they find em tomorrow evening, sinkin
Im probly drinkin that syrup
Thinkin I won’t slip, even though I’m leanin like a broke hip
He don’t know I got the nina wit the full clip
Thats a somersault back spin full flip for ya?
Push this button, I flip out and hit something
Miss nothin i'm just bustin until this scene clean
12 hundred for the jeans stop playin
Hundred dollars for the glock in my pants
Who the man? I am when I stand with it pointed right at ya face
Knock the brains from the back of ya neck for lack of respect
I- strap a jet black gat ‘til the deck
Tell the mama to bury me with that, No Bullshittin’
My hood getting kinda crazy where I be
So Ronie's with me 'cause he's the OG
Chorus
Fresh out the back seat of the figgity phantom
The haters I make em mad em when I wave at em like what up?!
If it ain't about money I keep goin
I tryna get that green, niggas tryna mow my lawn
But F**k, them boys I got the shottie on my arm
If them boys run up I leave their bodies on the lawn
And Duck the f**k out a there, 'cause baby its hot out there
If this was a movie it’s time to roll the credits, cut!
Its all over, all of ya brains is all over the motherf**kin’ block!
I’m a motherf**kin’ rock!
Hard body eagle street 17 shots
Night vision double-clip, hot steady beam, glat! Pop!
Drop little man drop
This is not for little bitches you man or a fox
I’m layin in the drop, thinking of more money
Cash money, young money
Take money, your money.
Chorus
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