Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Shotz to Tha Double Glock , by - Bone Thugs-N-Harmony. Release date: 24.07.1995
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Shotz to Tha Double Glock |
| If you’re down to glide and slide on the Clair, then let’s ride |
| Tony Tone roll with Bone on the dark side |
| But when you come just bring your guns witcha |
| If your a busta niggas gone have fun witcha |
| So nigga don’t get me wrong, my niggas |
| Swang them thangs, bang some brains |
| Slangin' yayo, it all remains the same |
| Step and you’ll catch some buck shots |
| Murder one on the Clair my glock glock |
| Mo thugs whats up nigga get dropped |
| Put 'em in the mud, pop and I can’t stop now |
| Nigga that I thug wit' kill |
| Pop to tha chest how does it feel |
| And nigga we peel caps |
| Pap, fit to get your wig cracked back |
| Killin' I’m buckin em down, I wish ya would |
| Try to get some, redrum, bitch |
| Nigga don’t test my hood |
| A first degree murderin' wig splitta, grave digga |
| Diggin' a ditch, puttin' a bitch |
| And them snitches in the pit, so don’t fuck with |
| Them niggas off the 9 9 |
| The foundation of niggas commitin' a crime is murderin' every time |
| Nigga beware cuz here come the Clair |
| Mobbin' like them soldiers |
| Watch me fold ya |
| For actin' like somebody never told ya |
| So off we go, to the bloody row |
| Tryin' to blood some souls, with that nine shot |
| Givin' props to the double glock |
| Pump pump when I let my shell down |
| Hit a nick nack gimmee the goodies and nigga me dash |
| Ya reach for the gauge and mash |
| Yell out 187 and blast |
| Nigga don’t test nuts your luck’s fucked |
| You feelin' up right for the bone yard |
| Thuggin' off with the graveyard shift |
| Then comin' up blow your whole card, bitch |
| Scandalous niggas, dwellin' the Clair be servin' them chop chop’s |
| We rippin' them guts with buck shotz, pop pop |
| You better be ready for this thug style |
| Krayzie, Layzie, Bizzy, Flesh with them wicked now |
| We straight up the glock glock |
| Well don’t get your wig’s split now |
| East 99 follow me down the strip as we trip to the darkside |
| Betta grab your pop, niggas be |
| Trippin' and flippin' as soon they get out |
| 187 you’re caught in a murder |
| Niggas up to no good |
| Uh oh, fuck no |
| They never could fuck with a thug ho |
| Pop pop givin up shotz to tha double glock glock |
| Nuthin but them killas, straight up thuggas |
| Rippin bucks up bloody clothes |
| Gaugin' bloody watch this nickle trippin' shot and fuck 'em down |
| Buckin' them coppas down |
| Round after round after round |
| Bloody bodies badges spread out on the ground |
| Ain’t no sound, just them demons screamin' rest in peace |
| I guess you got ta suffer |
| Ready to pip hollow point tip, got your wig split |
| They made your body |
| Once you hunt my victims on a mission |
| Flippin' livin' on a darker side |
| Creepin' on your homicide |
| Let my nuts and my gauge hang low now walk on by, |
| Boogie Nikke’s on a night ride |
| Thuggin through my thuggish ass hood at night, with my pipe |
| Thuggin down the double glock |
| Tryin' to get my serve on |
| Watchin' my back while six-five try to roll on |
| But one to the suckas head and two up in his body |
| Now peep my creep I eat the reefer smoke all up inside me |
| We jumpin' up rough from the hood |
| We bailin' we thuggin' we lookin' like crooks |
| Could tell we be fatal, ready to roll |
| Know we willing and able |
| Rollin' with Ruthless bitch betta check my label |
| Murda dem, never come again |
| When the scandalous niggas set up |
| Bloody nigga trues be on my level |
| Eighty eight and ten five is the soldiers ghetto |
| Nigga don’t take the wrong turn |
| or you will enter the hood and were spittin |
| so cover your dome |
| At a cut where the thugs and hustlas roam |
| Cleveland Browns |
| Dogg Pound hoes, it’s on |
| Let’s begin in the mix, of a Clair player |
| You’re liable to get your wigs split and dumped in a ditch bitch |
| Cause them thugs, sendin' them slugs |
| Leavin' em off in the cut in a puddle of blood say what |
| Don’t make me go in my trench |
| Nigga ya got me bent |
| All fucked up, your luck’s up, you gotta get sent |
| To your gravesite as John Doe for fuckin wit those… |
| It’s them thugs runnin' amuck, |
| on none but a slug all up in the territory |
| Never divide, go nationwide with the buck buck |
| So where you at where you at |
| I’m strapped and ready ta snap n yank a nigga’s neck back |
| puttin em Koolaid hats |
| In ta the graveyard |
| Pumped up betta get down |
| Thugs’ll be glad ta tear around |
| Foe sombody gets fucked |
| Ya still don’t want some bitch but what the muthafuck I wanna |
| Wham ya wit a tec-9 |
| Now bitch press yo luck |
| Pop pop givin up shotz to tha double glock glock |