Gucci Mane – Glizock & Wizop (feat. Key Glock) [ Lyrics] Letra Gucci Mane
Intro Key Glock
(BandPlay)
G-Lock
Yeah
Chorus Key Glock
Ayy, it’s Glizock and Guwop, we so icy, nigga, you not (Yeah)
Pistol in the party, these young niggas with me too hot (Yeah)
I ran it up, no bank account, I stuffed it in the shoebox
Ninth grade with them things, I felt like a trap god (Yeah)
Long live my nigga Flippa, bitch (Bitch), you see these blue rocks (Yep)
Ayy, I can’t put no money in my denim, it’s just too much
Ayy, every time you see me, I got some new ice and like two cups
Ayy, not from Milwaukee or from Tampa, bae, these blue bucks
Verse 1 Gucci Mane
It’s Guwop and Glizock, and this combo gon’ be hard to stop
Zone 6 to South Memphis, totin’ that pistol like a cop
Wouldn’t give me my flowers, I rеwarded myself and bought a watch (Burr)
Took the fork and scrapеd the pot (Skrrt), it’s off the eye, I shake the pot
I can’t put no money in no niggas who ain’t worth it, dawg (No)
Confiscated my necklace ‘cause these suckers didn’t deserve it, y’all (Pussy)
Seventeen summers later, showin’ no signs of fallin’ off (Well, damn)
I didn’t even imagine I’d be ballin’ how I’m ballin’ now (Go, go)
Niggas tried to count me out, they miscounted the wrong amount (Wrong)
Killers took, don’t bring ‘em up, it’s ‘round ‘em if I bring ‘em out
Oh, you got a crash dummy, think before you send him off (Huh?)
His brain left on the dashboard, we all see what he thinkin’, dawg (Yeah)
Chorus Key Glock
Ayy, it’s Glizock and Guwop, we so icy, nigga, you not (Yeah)
Pistol in the party, these young niggas with me too hot (Yeah)
I ran it up, no bank account, I stuffed it in the shoebox
Ninth grade with them things, I felt like a trap god (Yeah)
Long live my nigga Flippa, bitch (Bitch), you see these blue rocks (Yep)
Ayy, I can’t put no money in my denim, it’s just too much
Ayy, every time you see me, I got some new ice and like two cups
Ayy, not from Milwaukee or from Tampa, bae, these blue bucks
Verse 2 Key Glock
Yeah (Blue bucks)
Baby, I get too much
Motherfuckin’ money, so I gotta keep that tool tucked
I’m still the same youngin’, the only thing, my money grew up
It be the same niggas talkin’ ‘bout slidin’ and ain’t shootin’ nothin’
Yeah, bitch, I’m all about my bread, every crouton
Yeah, I just cut a check and bitch off like a coupon
Yeah, dead guys in my past, that shit two-hundred
Um, young nigga keep the heat up on ‘em, Jimmy Bun
Chorus Key Glock
Ayy, it’s Glizock and Guwop, we so icy, nigga, you not (Yeah)
Pistol in the party, these young niggas with me too hot (Yeah)
I ran it up, no bank account, I stuffed it in the shoebox
Ninth grade with them things, I felt like a trap god (Yeah)
Long live my nigga Flippa, bitch (Bitch), you see these blue rocks (Yep)
Ayy, I can’t put no money in my denim, it’s just too much
Ayy, every time you see me, I got some new ice and like two cups
Ayy, not from Milwaukee or from Tampa, bae, these blue bucks
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