Bird Flu

Lyrics

[Intro: GlockBoyz TeeJaee] Mhm, GlockBoyz, nigga Free Broad Day, you know the vibes, nigga You know what the fuck goin' on, ayy [Chorus: GlockBoyz TeeJaee] Remember Gucci dropped that Bird Flu in 2007 Before I kept a gun and could lose my life any second Probably way better than jail, but free my niggas out of Heaven I tap bro like, "Press record", and I start preachin' like the reverend The good die young, I don't know what Roddy was talkin' 'bout With a fifty round they shot my nigga at his mama house Seven days straight, man, it wasn't shit for us to cry about Ridin' 'round the city like we was tryna buy a house [Verse 1: GlockBoyz TeeJaee] Ask around, man, I still be on that dumb shits a kid Man, fuck all them views, I like huntin' shit Man, still be with them niggas out hеre runnin' shit Man, I was in the streets when I was a kid, I don't know how to play, don't touch shit Ayy, tеll the nigga it's for sure just bring a hundred clips, I got a hundred guns Ayy, we ain't gon' talk about the choppers, we got a hundred of 'em With a hundred on it I'm mad as hell, we made the news, we need another stolie These niggas Soulja Boys, I don't crank that You got a big Draco in my hood, I might just take that Man, these niggas Lil Bow Wow, they be big cappin' How I be hidin'? Every day I be in big traffic with Mag on me Niggas out here broke as hell, already they just has-beens I'm already on the next wave, you can come and get a splash from me Wasn't goin' to school unless I had some shit like my dad money Stash money, cash money, Juvenile My niggas stupid wild, we ride around, two hundred rounds In the hood like Tommy be with Jerry, don't bring no rats around Man, you ran, right? You really ain't got your gun, brody, pat 'em down Man, you can't come around no more, we already gunned you down [Chorus: GlockBoyz TeeJaee] Remember Gucci dropped that Bird Flu in 2007 Before I kept a gun and could lose my life any second Probably way better than jail, but free my niggas out of Heaven I tap bro like, "Press record", and I start preachin' like the reverend I know the good die young, I don't know what Roddy was talkin' 'bout With a fifty round they shot my nigga at his mama house Seven days straight, but it wasn't shit for us to cry about Ridin' around the city like we was tryna buy a house [Verse 2: Skilla Baby] Bird flu, what that mean, bricks in the air? Next season Mike Amiri on, these bitches rare I got ten times what I paid stuffed in every pair Drum kit on my sticks, I don't like the snare I get a nigga pressed like a button I got power, I can turn him to a ghost, that ain't nothin' I'll beat a nigga ass for real, scrappin' with my cousin And they always pass me the strap, 'cause I'm bustin' Rob his ass? Hm, nah, drop his ass Ice on, stick on me, slidin' in a hockey mask He don't wanna die, how many times I gotta pop his ass? Take off on a opp, Jimmy Neutron, gotta blast (Ha) These hoes, hm, do what we say TeeJaee got a bucket, I wish I could see the replay I like the opps music, I don't say shit to the DJ My shooter come from down south, bowls come from LA (Mm) Rucci kicks on the whip, where the valet? We get frontends and backends and back pay Got the hoes in, all of my friends in, the straps in [?][2:25], I gotta put the shit on pause when the birds fly in (Huh?)