Lyrics Hold It Down - TEC

You know lil lu gon hold it down
You gotta just the only round
Ay you better just slow it down
Cause when it up it's be going down
Trap baby I was born in the kitchen
What you scoring what's the ticket
You wouldn't going in them trenches nigga
We run the streets off he got coins on them bitches
Up in traffic we blow him like hoeings in the trenlims

Lil one hotter then a stolen fire arm with a body on it
Now it's bread on his head and everybody want it
He talking to them feds giving taps and traps on every corner
Seem in your paper work want that nigga dead don't you
Huh that baby glizzy got a leg on it
People catch me with this bitch I'm going fed on me
Got 3 conviction keep it wit me just got off parole
Let it sneeze blow off your nose
Step like show without the soul
Make me make your coffin close
I been on and off the road
What make you think I won't off you and then go shoot across the globe
Mob shit crank up your whip then your car explode
Torso of the Scorpio give a fuck bout your heart scope
They gon call the other boo when we send ah blitz
News paper article with his face in that bitch
Whatever scene I catch him they yellow taping that bitch
My Glock My faith in that bitch when I go I'm taking that bitch
I know some niggas want me dead so they can rap bout ah
Body they ain't catch pussy bitch you ain't like that tho
I heard he thirsty for my bitch I make her milk him for we killed him
Make that boy shit his self like he was Lack tobing
In the bil let the mac go hit the fist to your back porch
Put foot prints in your back door
Now they feared spiders and shiraq nose
Phobia that's the definition for them extra nigga
That be google my lyrics like I ain't the best who did it
Step on them niggas don't know how long I been telling them niggas
They stealing my swag I develop them niggas
Baton Rouge Jay z Rockafella lil nigga
Could cut off the beat Acappella it really don't matter
Can tell you story's bout them letters lotta tears and blood shetters

You know lil lu gon hold it down
You gotta just the only round
Ay you better just slow it down
Cause when it up it's be going down
Trap baby I was born in the kitchen
What you scoring what's the ticket
You wouldn't going in them trenches nigga
We run the streets off he got coins on them bitches
Up in traffic we blow him like hoeings in the trenlims

Lil one hotter then a stolen fire arm with a body on it