Glock In My Hand

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Z-Dogg] I'm wakin' up friday mornin' to a fat mack blunt I grip my pump and load it up and put it into my trunk I'm on my way to do a stang for the four or five keys I got my cellular phone and called up some of my G's I picked them up off on the block, now we leavin' the scene We lookin' mean, we ride so clean, now we fire up that green We full of them blunts, full of that skunk, it's Z-Dogg in this bitch I got my pump, it's loaded up and I ain't takin' no shit I'm 'bout to lay these niggas down, put this crown on my chest So many niggas get caught slippin' with no bullet proof vest I hit the junt and kicked the buster, put my pump to his head You gotta drop off them keys, before you end up dead Wе did the stang, we on the way, wе took the mask off our face We four deep, we straight from Frayser, never catchin' no case [Verse 2: Mistermeanor] Player hatin' niggas wanna step to me Mad, 'cause I'm cliqued up with the Gimisum Family Fuck that shit, I got the antidote to solve your problems Kick in your doors with my Glock and commence To pop it on a heavy nigga, always wanna talk shit Got 'em on his knees, cryin' like a punk bitch Pop 'em in his head with my motherfuckin' steel Gotta let him know this nigga from the North is for real Machete in the side of my back fuckin' pocket Take it out, and shove it through your fuckin' eye socket Laugh, as the blood start to gush everywhere Tie you to grenades in a god damn chair Mafia style killin' is what you be gettin' Too late to beg and plead with me ask me for forgiveness I quickly set the bomb, I hear his screams as I run Crashin' through your window 'cause my mission has been done [Verse 3: Big Hill] Now officer friendly backin' off because the blastin' of the sawed-off Big baller, my rottweilers they maulers I got that nine with the beam, hollow point rip with teflon-tips Makin' them busters scream, well, Levi's can't stitch them jeans Face to the concrete as I leap back into my Lexus Jeep Stash my heat, and fired up a Tampa Sweet Cruisin' down your street, bitch, now who's talkin' shit? Cocksucker, flaugin' weak-ass skinny bitch Hey young broad, stay young, 'cause when you get big Them water guns ain't toys, them niggas ain't no boys These hoes creep, when you sleep They servin' that alcohol with some Visine Nighty-night, trick, sweet dreams [Outro: Lil Ced] Really, I can care less 'bout you, boy (Don't fuck up, Glock in my hand) Really, I can care less 'bout you, boy (Don't fuck up, don't fuck up, Glock in my hand) Really, I can care less 'bout you, boy, and your fuckin' figures (Glock-Glock in my hand) (Glock-Glock in my hand) (Glock-Glock)