Текст песни Glock - Last Dude

Bitch, I fucking trust this blunt
Bitch, I fucking trust my bitch
I′on fucking trust might lose
My mind for fucking trust glock

Bitch, I fucking trust my bitch
I'on fucking trust this glock
Bitch, I fucking trust my bitch
I′on fucking trust this glock

Bitch, I fucking trust my bitch
I'on fucking trust this glock
Bitch, I fucking trust my bitch
I'on fucking trust this glock

A nigga had the nerve to walk up
On me ask me where I′m from
I told him I ain′t bang, he didn't listen
So I gave him one
Not the cididy one, nigga try to hit him up
Now you wanna get him up, set it up
And wet it up
Now from the hood, checking niggas
On the daily
Started off BG, OG, baby
Real live homie, two heaters in my seat
Had to check a nigga at the
Compton Swap Meet
Where you from? I don′t bang
Where you live? Where you hang?
Say the wrong thing, and bang
Lights out, kites out to the
Homies in the pen
Crippin' in thе city, we ain′t let the cuz in
Niggas camouflagе, try to
Blend in to fit in
Get a hood rat so they set in
But if she got a brother, a daddy
Or a cousin
They hit your ass up like
Motherfuckers, where you from, cuh?

Have you really thought about your part in this participation?
My prediction bloody murder similar to menstruation
Now in fairness to conversation
'Cause it′s your fate so take the time
To contemplate what you'll be facin'
Talkin′ that Hip-Hop shit, don′t get shot, bitch
'Cause you can tell all in your clique to eat Pac′s dick
The clip's in, prepare for the mothafuckin′ death blow
(Let's go!)
′Cause every rapper in the industry is history, it's Death Row

I got a riddle: what's little and talks big
With midget arms and creamy white fillin′ in the middle
That will do anything to throw dirt on my name
If it means walkin′ the whole Mediterranean
Is he an Albanian, Armenian, Iranian, Tasmanian? No!
His name's Raymond and, oh, so sorry, yo, Osorio
That was a long time ago (Westside!)

Must be so so crazy
Bitch, I′ll beat your boy bad
Standin' in the midst of my comrades (Comrades)
Bitches can′t fade me
Plottin' but they ploys crashed
Fuckin′ with the midst of my comrades (Comrades)
Take it to the next phase; you had your time to talk shit
Now bitches bustas getting checkmated
These days mothafuckas talk shit and turn snitch
When you see 'em they ain't talking about shit
(Westside!)

I am- i am being real? how can I explain this?
How can I swing this in English language
If I switch to slang and turn man to mayn
Do I do it in vain or simply to entertain?
Am i being fake?
Am I just a fraud or am I truly genuine?
Or am I caught up in this hot water?
Wody on my daughter
I told ya I love this culture (Let′s go!)

So why they lock my Aunty son up?
Might storm the fucking station with
My motherfucking gun up
All accusations what they sum up
They locking niggas over young
Bitches wanting a nut bust
She popped that pussy, she was 15
If she can open up her legs, then
She old enough to get dick, see
Because her parents want to flip see
They flipped the script got a nigga locked up
Some bitch shit

This Glock
Bitch, I fucking trust my bitch
I′on fucking trust this glock
Bitch, I fucking trust my bitch
I'on fucking trust this glock

Bitch, I fucking trust my bitch
I′on fucking trust this glock
Bitch, I fucking trust my bitch
I'on fucking trust this glock

Where the fuck do these niggas where
All this shit be goin′ down?
You want to know how I did this shit?
You want to know how real my shit is?
Go read the mothafuckin' newspaper
You trick ass nigga
(Huh!)