paroles de chanson Slow Roll - Boldy James , The Alchemist

All my youngins be on go mode
Slow roll, all my youngins be on go mode
Let's get it

Used to pack it up, had to slow roll, tryna trap me up a dough roll
Hundred round Drac' and the long nose, thuggin' on 8 with the .44s
High-speed chase 'til the drugs on, runnin' from Jake and the popo
They claim the game but they subpar
Sweat a hundred Percs, need another jar
Been a hot boy with them rock stars
Watching out for the sweep off of Dunbar
Little Grand Marquis just be unmarked
Sitting on a corner in her hood parked
Said he beat his gun charge, seen't 'em in the hood
Hop out the back of a squad car
Either you trap or you farm hot
Choppers with straps on the arm stock
Slidin' with Glocks in the armrest
Got some get-back, we ain't duckin' no wreck
Put that chopper to a nigga lips like some fuckin' Carmex
Blow the Artex, DJ run it back like a fuckin' hot track
Thuggin' in the projects, I wish I could bring my nigga Mas back
Turn your town into Old Country Buffet
But we met the plug at Outback
We was back and forth down in K-Y, runnin' with the Wildcats
Met my young dog up in Mount Jax to get off the loud pack
Hate my irritating ass Js but a nigga love to count racks

Slow roll
Slow roll
Slow roll (All my youngins be on go mode)
Slow roll

When my doc' write, look like scribble-scratch
Straight drop got a nigga block slappin' like a pitty-pat
Stuff a bitch with a thousand Xanax in a jimmy hat
Hothead with a heated temper, quick to Windex a nigga fitted cap
Right hand man the grim reaper, index finger, don't trigger that
Dumb thinking you can fuck with Blockworks
How the fuck a nigga figure that?
He done got whacked, hit him in his hat
Twist his top back, we'll peel his cap
Bloodstains on the concrete
All-white stitch with a hint of grey
Broken glass, middle of the street
See the bricks chipped from the ricochet
Wipe a opp off the hit-list, slidin' off with them misfits
Ridin' 'round with this big bitch, I just made another chicken play
Don't let that money go to your head
Cause the money change hands anyway
In the Feds on his death bed only time when a nigga pray
Shawty took it straight to the head, R.I.P. to my nigga Tay
Free Justo, free my nigga K, gotta hold it down for my nigga Ray
Used to let him pour his own trouble
Champagne glass full of rose bubbles
Louis belt with the gold buckle
Mr. Micheal Mary with the stone jungle (Whatever)

Slow roll
Slow roll
Slow roll
Slow roll