A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

Glasses Malone

"Roll Call"

[Intro - Crooked I]
Yeah, Million Dollar
I was told only do what you afraid to
Ya scared n*ggas?
Its power in numbers
From Long Beach to South Central
From Watts to the bank
My n*gga Jay Rock

[Jay Rock]
I'm sargent slaughter when I hop up on this track dawg
You know its armada, paint your whole muhf*ckin’ town red when my lead hit the tablet
And for the jealous (?) workin’ my (?) like (?)
I’m totally fitted, you collateral damage
Anybody who challenge when I’m on can blow up a planet
Nuclear warfare when I’m on this beat b*tch
I’m so hot, eight thousand degree sh*t
Murk yo ass with my trademark
Step in yo central turn your studio to a grave yard
I go hard you go soft you Barbie, see the pink in your eyes
Nothing but a b*tch in disguise
These di*k riders, steady tryna hitch ’em a ride
(?) is over, go gitchu a (?)
When this beef c*cked back might hit you wit five
Leave yo brains on display for the news at nine
That’s how these Cali boys ride!

I does it from (?) new whips
Im on money in a new sense, Im a nuisance
Ain't no barricade I kinda left it, where that new set(?)
I drift my own (?) and b*tch I don’t recruit raps
Chase money to catch it we Franklin with (?)
Practice on targets at random and ransom receivers
Word binding is biblical, and (?)
Landmine flow, the Johnny Depp blow as a poet(?)
Im goin town on these n*ggas that been (?) Adam
Impossible to touchdown on our when we sac em
We sniper decipher (?) summer ignited, we fire
Black dots winter mitten(?) now your times up
Im west now rancid with extravagant transit
Watching (?) get blue bruises to amuse news
Channelling wolverine (?) x-men im damaging
Playin pathologist to bodies just for the sampling

[Glasses Malone]
I ain't no gangbang rookie
School of Hard Knocks, I ain't ever play hookie
Took (?)
Trap hall of fame’ers where the game need to put me
So pushy bully bullies in the streets
(?) quick to bring a fully to the beat
Call that b*tch a spoon, they’ll be scoopin yall up
If I ever get to empty all this (?)
Look yung im a different breed of n*gga
Hungry, like Birdman don’t feed a n*gga
I got work so I don’t need the n*gga
Plus I got arms long as Trevor Ariza's n*gga
Act silly, test my Kevin hart
We’ll see who get the last laugh you motherf*cking Mark
Curry, they screamin hurry up and buy
They see the old dawg in my motherf*ckin eyes
Wassup 3x

[Mistah FAB]
I got a gift with this lyrical style
And when I spit you might’ve thought I was a miracle child
Murderous verbous(?) spits deliver passes
Just like irvin did swervin in a suburban in dat car
Full of urban kids
Namin dat title alone terrify my rivals
I never change like islam entertain the bible
The spiritual mythical typical rippin flow
That paralyze mcs im leavin em crippled tho
Con artist I talk a koofi off of muslim domes
Sylvester stallone tell rocky that the king is home
When white b*tches bad as sharon stone
Carryin zones bay area's own carry the throne
Love my block so much man I married my zone
I got jazz like jerry and sloan gravedigga
Get out my way fore I bury you homes
Im so unique theres no comparin the clones
I'm gone

[Crooked I]

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

All lyrics are property and copyright of their owners. All lyrics provided for educational purposes and personal use only.
Copyright © 2017-2019 Lyrics.lol