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Shy Glizzy

Genres: Hip-Hop

Score Lyrics - Shy Glizzy

Hey little boy, Jefe said,"Go do your chores!" 

These niggas some whores 

Wipe them out, show no remorse 

I might go hop in that Porsche 

Go buy my new bitch a horse 

Soon as I hopped off the porche 

I started flaming that torch 

He shoots! He scores! 

A soon as I walk in the door 

Swoosh 

I score 

I send my goons to your block 

(Bup bup bup bup) and they score 

They gonna pass Jefe the rock 

Cause they know for sure Im gonna score 

He shoot! He Scores! 

 

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The fuck is you doing? 

Jefe be rocking that foreign 

These niggas be super boring 

They just be rapping, no touring 

Straight at they ass like a storm 

It could be four in the morning 

We give no fucks what you doing 

See, GG bitch we just a army 

We bust in your shit with the tommy's 

Your moms could be making an omelet 

Shoot her ass straight out her bonnet 

These niggas be talking like bitches 

Im just being honest 

I can not kick it with snitches 

Fuck no, Im not being modest 

Shorty be kicking this flavor 

Shorty be getting his paper 

These niggas can't get them no paper 

So they wanna turn into haters 

I put the food in your neighbor 

I even tipped all the waiters 

You mad you can sit at the table 

Bye lil' boy I'll see you later 

 

The one and the only big glizzy 

Nigga the fuck is you silly? 

Im two stops away from a mili 

They asking me, "Where is the glizzies?" 

I don't mix red peppers with chili 

You got your shit took by the Glizzies? 

Boy this shit don't look like no Glizzy 

Forever Tre-7 to heaven 

My dogs they tote big Mac 11's 

I don't plan on doing no telling 

Bet whatever my brother ain't telling 

All of my niggas, they reckless 

You see all of my niggas got necklaces 

Fuck niggas think they gonna test us 

Let your stupid ass wait for the stretcher 

I can't wait to see some of you rappers 

Make me take off my belt while you act up 

My niggas come through, beat your back up 

Your niggas be calling for back up 

Watch out, watch out for that 'Lac truck 

GG QB, get your sack up 

I only make music for trappers 

Now go sing your last song with the pastor 

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