Soundtracks: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

List of artists: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #


Music Video


Slide


G Herbo Lyrics

 

Slide Lyrics

Slide by G Herbo


It is a 150 Party, don’t invite the feds
I was in the trenches, born with that SIG
Come pull up with 2 shooters, cause that was all we had
Still clapped his ass, still whacked his ass, yea
And we shot your man on accident
Ain’t even hit him that many times, look up axed his ass, damn
And you’ll never know what we sliding in
Wanna pull up, clapping out that foreign, pussy start rapping then
He was outside, pussy nigga then he died then
b**ch load up that .30 why you crying then?
b**ch come pull up and kill one of mine then
And if you really want this body, b**ch keep trying then
Walking down the 9 with that, (with that)
Ain’t even have no mask, put on our hood
Big bro asked me was I tryna slide, and I just shrugged
Lil foenem’ got all this reefer gassed up, we good, (good)
We was shooting niggas going to highschool
We blew down the twin, they told the council
Student-Teacher Conference brought they grandma, too
Ain’t give no f**k, next day, brought my hammer too
You ain’t never posted up by the corner with Roc
You ain’t never seen Fazo with that .40 Glock
You ain’t never had to run from the end of the block
You ain’t never seen slime pop out, no top
You ain’t never seen nobody drop, at least not one of the opps
I always shoot, no movie, these b**ches look like some props
And all of these b**ches got mops
Couple of the guys cut off they locks, cause them b**ches got hot
Whole East-side’s getting popped
I was on the 8, I was high off a 8, phone East-Side of the pop
Gotta get the mag, whodie in traffic, oh he sliding with a bop
Ya’ll ain’t talkin’ about that, we talkin’ about that one?
Oh he died off the spot, we ain’t never tryna give no
Nigga the first lick, so we riding with it out
I remember I was 15, bought my first trey, see what that b**ch was about
Gotta ride to the block, linked up with Whitefolkz, he blew that b**ch to the aisle
9-1-1, knock him down, Twin Towers, red showers, red flowers
We was smoking oppers, when he had sour
Now we smoke exotic, Essex block, that’s ours (b**ch)
And I got power (b**ch), get the strip devoured
Ain’t gotta pop out with no extra clip, another one of them
b**ches around us
All my niggas running up 6 figures, got at least double digits around us
Said you ain’t worried bout none of these choppers, till a 100 of these b**ches come out it (rrahh)



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