Your native language

عربي

Arabic

عربي

简体中文

Chinese

简体中文

Nederlands

Dutch

Nederlands

Français

French

Français

Deutsch

German

Deutsch

Italiano

Italian

Italiano

日本語

Japanese

日本語

한국인

Korean

한국인

Polski

Polish

Polski

Português

Portuguese

Português

Română

Romanian

Română

Русский

Russian

Русский

Español

Spanish

Español

Türk

Turkish

Türk

Українська

Ukrainian

Українська
User Avatar

Geluid


Koppel


Moeilijkheidsgraad


Accent



interfacetaal

nl

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Cookie beleid   |   Steun   |   FAQ
1
registreren / inloggen
Lyrkit

doneren

5$

Lyrkit

doneren

10$

Lyrkit

doneren

20$

Lyrkit

En/of steun mij op sociaal gebied. netwerken:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Quando Rondo

JOG Blueprint

 

JOG Blueprint


Blrr, ha, ha, ha
You know once it's up with us, it's stuck with us, you see what I'm saying? Yeah (You know that)
Glock four-five his head nap (Boom, ha, Yakree), il' shawty be my ratchet, caught a baddie out my fan mail
Boom, baow, boom

Oh-oh, he Rolling (Baow)
Black rock through the corner, hundred round tryna rip them over (Baow)
Corner store, we let him post up, now he fully loaded (Ah)
Thirty in my magazine, that shoot it out if I approach 'em

Straight drag racing in a Hellcat like a NASCAR (NAS')
We be on some motion (Ha), run out, knock a fan off (Ha)
Audemars baguettes, you get 'em whacked, that's 'bout a hundred rods
Jump Out Gang gon' stretch ya, I bet that choppa shoot a hundred, yah
Two fifties on this MAC, all black, we gon' knock 'em off
That lil' nigga on some Loc shit (Clatt), two hundred bottom of the soul
I'm sorry that I got attached to Promethazine and Adderall (Ha, ha)
Got it off my new bitch, I got her some blue shit with us
See what I'm saying, I got the blueprint

Amiri denim dripping with it, cost me you can't fucking pay
Shot up my ex behind the ceiling 'cause this bitch don't love me, nigga
Shots fired off right by the bell and I advised you not to play
.556 and .308 rip up they block, then you get paid
New four-five Glock like Jump Out shake, that JOG, I'm Jump Out Gang
We break 'em down and bag 'em up, ran up a hundred in a day
Four in the morning, me and Buddha, all my jewelry on the haste
Lil' shawty fuck, she love to rock my blue bandana 'round her face
Full master foreign, roll that opp pack in the air straight to the face
Backseat, I'm snorting off a Xanax, plus some pint of purple med
That's my lil' homie on the corner serving rocks and banging A
Feds, they be trolling like we hiding but we out 'til winter away
Mercedes throwing, bend they block, then let off shots that new AK
I'm sipping potion, roll another dead opp straight to the face
I'm rocking Comme des Garçons, got fed up, then caught a case
I bet that you won't make it home, his head bust and you get paid

Straight drag racing in a Hellcat like a NASCAR (NAS')
We be on some motion (Ha), run out, knock a fan off (Ha)
Audemars baguettes, you get 'em whacked, that's 'bout a hundred rods
Jump Out Gang gon' stretch ya, I bet that choppa shoot a hundred, yah
Two fifties on this MAC, all black, we gon' knock 'em off
That lil' nigga on some Loc shit (Clatt), two hundred bottom of the soul
I'm sorry that I got attached to Promethazine and Adderall (Ha, ha)
Got it off my new bitch, I got her some blue shit with us
See what I'm saying, I got the blueprint

You know Lil Timmy really 'bout it, I be tryna tell him chill
Got all these Perkies in my body, "Why the fuck you pop a pill?"
Don't even go inside the projects since Lil JaJa, he got killed
I bet that bitch go blocker, blocker, all these stocks inside my steel
You know lil' Jump Out black and driving by like you might just get killed
Ju-ju-jump out with them straps, I'm styling, Balmain on my heels
Rolling that pressure 'til he drop, we got 'em all, run up a mil'
I'm like the box waiting on my section with that codeine out the seal
My family filled up with straight dope fiends and it's been like that for years
I'm such a stupid motherfucker, why the fuck they gave me years?
We tote them guns and empty clips, bitch, murder one, I'm from 'em Crips
Bro wonder, "Quan, he grip the witters?" It's just the fucking life I live (Boom, bah, skrrt)

Oh-oh, he Rolling (Baow)
Black rock through the corner, hundred round tryna rip them over (Baow)
Corner store, we let him post up, now he fully loaded (Ah)
Thirty in my magazine, that shoot it out if I approach 'em

Straight drag racing in a Hellcat like a NASCAR (NAS')
We be on some motion (Ha), run out, knock a fan off (Ha)
Audemars baguettes, you get 'em whacked, that's 'bout a hundred rods
Jump Out Gang gon' stretch ya, I bet that choppa shoot a hundred, yah
Two fifties on this MAC, all black, we gon' knock 'em off
That lil' nigga on some Loc shit (Clatt), two hundred bottom of the soul
I'm sorry that I got attached to Promethazine and Adderall (Ha, ha)
Got it off my new bitch, I got her some blue shit with us
See what I'm saying, I got the blueprint

klaar

Heb je alle onbekende woorden uit dit nummer toegevoegd?