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Crooked I - G'd Up And Banged Out
#1
Artist: Crooked I
Song: G'd Up And Banged Out
Produced by:
Appears on:


Verse 1:

G’d up and banged out
When I tell a bitch to drop it like it’s hot, I ain't talkin’ about the ass
I mean the profits that she clock, In the pockets that she got
I’m a hustler, I gotta hit the block nigga, My city got it locked psychotic
We get idiotic with a glock, which glock? This glock
Keepin it Hitchcock'd, all we want is pockets thicker than Chris Rock’s
So we can dip drops, hit blocks, make that bitch hop
I’m in a 6 itchin’ like chicken poc(k)s that hit the switch box
Back bumper touchin’ the ground when the tray clown
I fuck around and brake a Dayton on the way down 
It’s eight rounds lay down when I draw the playground
They found the state down is the law, who inherit the throne
I’m that nigga they based O-Dogs character on
Don’t even stare at me wrong,
Might find yourself getting physical therapy on
Nigga we close hand killers, close range killers
Blowin more change than four main cocaine dealers
The realest mothafuckas to ever touch the mic
While these other suckas be coming off busta like
I’m on one, I might call some sluts tonight 
Or bang ‘Black Superman’ while I fuck your wife
Gotta let them silly chicken heads know
It’s Dogg Pound Recordz / Death Row, ok let’s go

Chorus:

We glock big dollars and don’t love hoes
We dippin around in Impalas and 6 Double O’s
Pop a collar on them haters like a G is supposed
We G’d Up and Banged out, loc and thats how it goes

Verse 2:

It’s like this y’all , that y’all
Better lay flat when I draw the gat y’all
And point it at y’all
This is a jack, show me the stack before that mini Mac crack y’all
After all said and done,
We leavin holes in arms, legs, chest, heads and lungs
They follow me as I chip stack, get snatched, hit rats
Spit caps, flip raps and get that big gat shit crack
Sit back sip gnac in my croco sacks
I’m blowin it up like airbags on impact
In this New Jack City I’m deadlier than Nino
Getting head in the parking lot like Pesci in Casino
They got the nerve to ask me how I’m livin
Swervin through the projects and spittin at them pigeons
Crooked I keep the streets on lock
Ain't nothin sweat, I keep my heat on cock
But hold up, I’m G’d Up and Banged out
I’m G’d Up and Banged out, I’m G’d Up and Banged out,
I’m G’d Up and Banged out

Chorus:

We glock big dollars and don’t love hoes
We dippin around in Impalas and 6 Double O’s
Pop a collar on them haters like a G is supposed
We G’d Up and Banged out, loc and thats how it goes
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