Lock And Load (Album Version (Explicit)) (Feat. Kurupt)

Yeah, ride wit' me sweet heart I'll fuck them niggas don't even worry 'bout them Its cash money baby You know what I'm talkin' bout Its the carter two [Chorus: x2] We won, we won And then we shot that B-B 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', cover my Evisu sign Yep we do shine, and they gon' hate But they hated Jesus baby we won't break So we ride like four Pirelli's So secured, no security, no protectin' no comparing Loc' and heavy, Ocean eleven Aviators, boat takers, so fackers No playas, I'm Hollygrove to the heart Hollygrove from the start Don't cross Earhardt Boulevard where the ward I come from One seven, one shot, never that (blum blum) Brrt Brrt! Pop Pop! Clap Clap! What the fuck, Hollygrove stand up nigga! [Chorus: x2] 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' I'm probably 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 That's 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 Twelve 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 till the deck Tell the mama to bury me with that, no bullshitin' My hood getting kinda crazy where I be So Ronie's with me 'cause he's the O-G [Chorus: x2] Fresh out the back seat of the figgity phantom The haters I make 'em madder when I wave at 'em like what up? If it ain't about money I keep goin' I try'na get that green, niggas try'na mow my lawn But fuck, them boys I got the shottie on my arm If them boys run up I leave their bodies on the lawn And duck the fuck 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 motherfuckin' block! I'm a motherfuckin' rock! Hard body eagle street seventeen 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: x2]