What You Got To Know

Lyrics

[Intro] On Bloods (Westside) Boy Say the road too hot, set up shop and I'ma send it (Beep) They say the road too hot (Man) [Verse] They say the road too hot, just set up shop and I'ma send it I got a brand-new Glock, I'ma test it out, I'm tryna spin him This a brand-new thot, baby, bend it over, I'm tryna hit it This a topside block, I'ma close the curtains when I hit it You tryna move the bag, I got hoes with licenses, just give me the price Talkin' bodies, they get me excited, tryna catch This shit just like Pilates, walk up in your kitchen, get to stretchin' All this work around, baby, you can't tell me that this not the eighties If they catch me with this work, like Billie Jean, bitch, that's not baby Tell the feds let my dog right up out them cages Hell yeah, we sellin' dog right up out the cages When that shit come in a ten, though, you gotta tame it Bitch, ah, ah Free my nigga Slick Rick, he fightin' them murder cases I let my fiend get a taste, he started Harlem Shakin' I told my bitch, "Tuck the Glock", this shit for our safety Hold on, watch how you be holdin' it, it ain't got no safety These white tees that we sellin' you can't get from Macy's You the type of nigga be playin' roles in the streets I'm the type of nigga to send a load, get it while I sleep I be sippin' mud, I came from the mud I live with the plug, I got unlimited drugs On my wrist, niggas, they cuz, but my killers Bloods 'Fore they let me take a bid, they'll kill the judge Don't take no money out the brib unless a nigga coppin' I can see it in his eyes that he ain't really shoppin' 'Fore I send it down the way, I calculate the profit Niggas speakin' on my name, I bet it's bodies droppin' Got a lane on a girl, lane on the blues I can pour me up a twelve and still'll never snooze I can take a couple L's and still'll never lose 'Cause my plug gon' send the package 'cause she know I move Bitch, uh, I can tell he new (Boy) Catch him walkin' out the pen' and put him on the news His fam' like, "Damn, he just got home, what the fuck he do?" Heard you the one that got the pape', shit, blame it on your troops He think I'm out here for a show, I'm down here for the lo' I got fifty on his head, just keep it on the low I got this one route in the shh, it's in a chokehold I can send a thousand beans, they bringin' the pros Tell my hitters on the floor, they bringin' the poles I heard the feds, they be watchin', I'm strikin' a pose Her nigga be givin' me dap, I'm fuckin' his ho I told her, "Baby, I'll never tell it, I'm keepin' it low" Yeah, you know I'm bangin' Blood but I got his lo' Soon as a nigga slip, I'm bustin' his dome Told the nigga, "You don't need Google, dog, to get this chrome" I call up Pape Kevin, yeah, 'cause it's home alone Call me Kyle McGregor, dog, the way young nigga slang a 'bow You can call me Vince Carter way I'm bangin' O Yeah, my dog still in the O just like Damon Jones [Outro] That's what you gotta know