Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Locked Up (feat. Master P), artist - King George. Date of issue: 20.02.2009
Song language: English
Locked Up (feat. Master P) |
| Prisoner, one-seven-fo'-nine-eight-six, dash-five-oh-fo' |
| Do you have anything, to say for yo’self before sentencing? |
| Hehehe, yes! |
| Nigga I’m a Rottweiler, they call me dawg on the streets |
| I never leave the house without my hand on my heat |
| I run with pitbulls, like Kirk, Boz and Jimmy |
| And we ain’t takin shorts, every dollar to the penny |
| Big cereal — chompin, white granola |
| Got a bitch uptown with the dope in a baby stroller |
| Fuck with me, then you fucked in the game |
| Niggas snitch to the Feds take two to the brain |
| We live the thug life, make money from the drug life |
| Flip a quarter ki, every day all night |
| Ship me to Oz, I’m still in it |
| Fuck the haters, No Limit we still winnin |
| I’m a killer my nigga — fool, check the rap sheet |
| Murder, armed robbery, kidnappin, conspiracy |
| This is for my niggas that’s locked up (LOCKED UP!) |
| Gangsters, til they boxed up (BOXED UP!) |
| Livin the laws, everyday we ready for war |
| We soldiers. |
| hard to the core |
| I used to sling rocks, out on blocks, gun cocked |
| Thinkin to myself — all these dumb-ass cops |
| Night time I was cold with two things on my mind |
| Get that money, rock a nigga if he get out of line |
| Put two in his spine, a nigga just lookin for crime |
| Heat it up, squeezin off for even lookin at mine |
| A basket case, tie you up, blast your face |
| Snatch the safe, closed casket at your wake |
| Two murders, three-time felon, catch the case |
| Facing double life I made some bad mistakes |
| Courts, judges, bars, lawyers |
| Fam-o, wifey, sons, daughters |
| Freedom, need that, shanks, keep that |
| Eight o’clock lock y’all know where I be at |
| Ran 'til I couldn’t run the slums with guns |
| Livin straight wild, knowin how the Jakes gon' come |
| Too many cats, in my hood, gettin it good |
| Know what I did, shit they got me facin a bid |
| Even as a little soldier, momma called me a thug |
| The block full of dope fiends, lookin for drugs |
| And I never let the dirty money pass me nigga |
| No matter how much coke I sold it never last me nigga |
| They blast me nigga, three niggas lookin for ki’s |
| Me and my kids duct-taped, layin down on our knees |
| I said I’d bust them niggas heads, and believe I did |
| Now them bitches got me locked down, facin a bid |