Politics and Promo

Lyrics

[Intro: GlockBoyz TeeJaee] (Ayy, Jay, man, run that shit, cuh) Hangin' in them trenches Hangin' with them trenches You'd probably catch me with one of your bitches (Come on, GlockBoyz, nigga) Yeah, yeah [Verse 1: GlockBoyz TeeJaee & Baby Grizzley] We still posted in the trenches, probably catch me chillin', ridin' with one of your bitches (Boy) We like Snoop when he was ridin' 'round with hydraulics, we got switches (We got switches) We don't wear no fuckin' suits, we grab our guns, handle that business (Boy) I just fucked her once and then I went back home, she say she miss me, yеah (She say she miss me) Somеtimes I wear my feelings on my sleeve I hate rat niggas the most, the shit ironic, I get cheese I walked in full of them drugs, you might just die before I leave I'm out of town tryna sell drugs like do some scams before I leave Brand-new Glock, and you know me, threw some attachments on that bitch I got a 30 and the beam, then a switchy for my shit I fucked her one time from the back and had her runnin' from the dick He asked me how much for a track? I told his ass thirty-six seven, boy Behind tint, we cliqued up, that's why we drivin' slowly We jump off them niggas like they Pokémon, Geronimo (You know that, though) Ask my mama, ask my pops, I sold a lot of dope (Ask my mama) Ask my mama, ask my pops, we had a lot of [?] (Hey) [Verse 2: Baby Grizzley] What they talkin' 'bout, Blood? Who they talkin' 'bout? (Who they talkin' 'bout?) GPS, hit him with them beams, yeah, walk him out You knew your time was up when out here day let doggy out Upload seven hundred K, they know what doggy 'bout They say they my day one niggas, who is them? Bitch, I'm eighty-two and them, and I fuck with Roy and them Louis V shirt, but it say free Troy and them Chain cost three hundred thousand, I got on two of them (Let's get it) Can't pronounce my shoes, but it's five on a pair (Okay) Told me I broke her whole heart like I care Red when I stare, white and gold Cartiers Heavyweight, you ain't never seen the ribs on a bear, ayy Who that nigga trippin' in that tega? Uh Who that nigga bustin' on your bae, uh? Ayy Who that nigga throwin' all that paper? Ayy Who that nigga makin' shit shake, blood? That's Brizzley (Woo) Bitch, add me up like a steak at the Ruth I can't fit all you niggas hoes in this two seat Say that Grizz gang Gucci, yeah, that's two G's Send my nigga to that touchdown, bitch, I'm Drew Brees Forty boy, I'm still 'bout it (Ayy) Baby say she still love me, I still doubt it (Ayy) That bag a thousand miles away and I can still route it That twelve-thirty, [?] Yeah, I'm still countin'