Lock and Load Lyrics By Kurupt
Ride with me, sweetheart
It ain't hard
Aw, fuck them ****
I ain't worried 'bout them
This Cash Money, baby
You know what I'm talkin' 'bout?
This Tha Carter 2
Kurupt
Holla at them **** (****)
Yeah
(We won)
Yeah
(We won)
Yeah, yeah
(And then we shot that BB gun )
You know
(And they lost)
(And they lost)
On the tender side
They like, they it that way
('Til we took they shit)
(Now it's time to floss )
We lock and load
Twenty-two year old 17th Ward vet'
Life in the fast lane
Little red Corvette
Little red handkerchief
Hangin' out the right side
Back pocket jeans fallin'
Cover my Evisu sign
Yep, we do shine and they gon' hate
But they hated Jesus, baby we won't break
(Bad, bad, bad)
Yep, we do shine and they gon' hate
(Michael Watts)
But they hated Jesus, baby we won't break
(Bad, bad)
Yep, we do shine and they gon' hate
But they hated Jesus, baby we won't break
We ride, we ride like four Pirellis
So secured
With no security, no protectin'
No comparin'
Locin' heavy
Ocean 11
Aviators
Boat takers
So fakers, ah
No playas
I'm Hollygrove to the
Holly-Hollygrove from the start
Don't cross Earhardt
Boulevard where the ward I come from
One-seven, one shot
Never that
Blum-blum
Brrrt, brrrt
Pop, pop
Clap, clap
The fuck, the fuck
Hollygrove, stand up (****)
Duck (Ow)
We won
We won
And then we shot that BB gun
(Yeah, yeah)
My ****, my ****, my **** on the left over there
You better kill this album, we fuckin' these guys up
(Now it's time to floss )
We lock and load
Get 'em, get 'em Weezy
Hit 'em where you kill 'em, easy
Sit 'em in the river, leave 'em
They find 'em tomorrow evenin'
Sinkin', I'm probably drinkin' that syrup
Thinkin' I won't slip
Even though I'm leanin' like a broke hip
He ain't know I got the Nina with the full clip
That's a somersault, backspin
Full flip for ya
Push this button, I flip out and hit somethin'
Miss nothin'
I'm just bustin' until the scene clean
Twelve hunnid for the jeans, stop playin'
Hunnid dollars for the Glock in my pants
Who the man?
I am when I stand with it pointed right at your face
Knock the brains from the back of ya neck
For lack of respect
I strap a jet, black gat 'til the death
Tell my momma to bury me with that, no bullshit
My hood gettin' kinda crazy where I be
Ro-Ronnie's with me 'cause he's the OG
My hood gettin' kinda crazy where I be
The Ro-the Ronnie's with me 'cause he's the OG
My hood gettin' kinda crazy where I be
The Ro-the Ronnie's with me 'cause he's the OG (****)
We won
We won
And then we shot that BB gun
And they lost
(But they lose)
And they lost
'Til we took they shit
(Yeah)
Now it's time to floss
(We lock and load)
Fresh out the back seat of the figgity Phantom
The haters, I make 'em madder when I wave at 'em
Like, "What up?" (What up)
If it ain't 'bout money, I keep goin'
I'm tryna, I'm tryna get that green
**** tryna mow my lawn but fuck
Them boys, I got the shotty on my arm
If them boys run up
I leave they bodies on the lawn
And duck the fuck outta there
'Cause baby, it's outta there
If this was a movie it's time to roll the credits
Cut (Cut)
It's all over
All of ya brains is all over the motherfuckin' block
I'm a motherfuckin' rock
Hardbody, Eagle Street, seventeen shots
Night vision, double clip
Hot steady beam Glock
Pop
Drop, little man, drop
This is not for little bitches
You man or a fox?
I'm layin' in the drop
Thinkin' of more money
Cash Money, Young Money (****)
Take money, your money
(Ouch, ouch)
(We won)
(We won)
Thought they knew the drill daddy
(And then we shot that BB gun)
Yeah, yeah
(And they lost)
(And they lost)
Homeboy (Homeboy)
My motherfuckin' wristband was three hunnid dollars
No lie
(We lock and load)
Dolce & Gabbana
They should pay me for sayin' that shit
So is my jeans (So is my jeans)
They wasn't three hunnid but they Dolce too
Yeah (Yeah)
(Mm-hmm)
What?
Cool, we here
And I'm fuckin' selfless Jack
Straight up
Hit the
