Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Blueprint, artist - Quando Rondo.
Date of issue: 16.12.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Blueprint |
Audemars baguettes, you get 'em whacked, that’s 'bout a hundred rods |
Jump Out Gang leave 'em stretched, I bet that choppa shoot a hundred, yah |
Two fifties on this MAC, all black, we gon' knock 'em off |
That lil' nigga on some Loc shit (Clatt), two hundred bottom of the soul |
Not sorry that I got attached to Promethazine and Adderall (Ha, ha) |
Kiyah, that’s my new bitch, I got her some blue shit |
See what I’m sayin', I got the blueprint |
Amiri denim dripping with it, cost me you can’t fucking pay |
Shot up my ex behind the ceiling 'cause this bitch don’t love me, nigga |
Shots fired off right by the building, I advised you not to play |
.556 and .308 rip up they block, then you get paid |
New four-five Glock like Jump Out shake, that JOG, I’m Jump Out Gang |
We break 'em down and bag 'em up, ran up a hundred in a day |
Four in the morning, me and Buddha, all my jewelry on the haste |
Lil' shawty fuck, she love to rock my blue bandana 'round her face |
Full master foreign, roll that opp pack in the air straight to the face |
Backseat, I’m snorting off a Xanax, plus some pint of purple maple |
That’s my lil' homie on the corner serving rocks and bangin' A |
Fans, they be trollin' like we hiding but we out totin' on eights |
Mercedes stolen bend they block, then let off shots that new AK |
I’m sipping potion, roll another dead opp straight to the face |
I’m rockin' Comme des Garçons, got fed up, then caught a case |
I bet that you won’t make it home, his head bust and you get paid |
Drag-drag racin' in a Hellcat like a NASCAR (NAS') |
We be on some motion (Ha), run out, knock a fan off (Ha) |
Audemars baguettes, you get 'em whacked, that’s 'bout a hundred rods |
Jump Out Gang leave 'em stretched, I bet that choppa shoot a hundred, yah |
Two fifties on this MAC, all black, we gon' knock 'em off |
That lil' nigga on some Loc shit (Clatt), two hundred bottom of the soul |
Not sorry that I got attached to Promethazine and Adderall (Ha, ha) |
Kiyah, that’s my new bitch, I got her some blue shit with us |
See what I’m sayin', I got the blueprint |
You know Lil Timmy really 'bout it, I be tryna tell him chill |
Got all these Perkies in my body, wildin', fuck it, pop a pill |
Don’t even go inside the projects since Lil JaJa, he got killed |
I bet that bitch go blocker, blocker, all these stocks inside my steel |
You know lil' JumpOutBlacc be driving by like, you might just get killed |
Ju-ju-jump out with them straps, I’m styling, Balmain on my heels |
Rollin' that pressure 'til he drop, we got 'em all, run up a mil' |
I’m like the boss man on my section, rip that codeine out the seal |
My family filled up with straight dope fiends and it’s been like that for years |
I’m such a stupid motherfucker, why the fuck they gave me Ms? |
We tote them guns and empty clips, big murder one, I’m from 'em Crips |
Bro wonder, «Quan, he grip the witters?» |
It’s just the fucking life I live |
(Boom, bah, skrrt) |
Oh-oh, he Rollin' (Baow) |
Black rock through the cut, hundred round tryna rip them open (Baow) |
Corner store, we let him post up, now he fully loaded (Ah) |
Thirty in my magazine, that shoot it out if I approach 'em |
Drag-drag racin' in a Hellcat like a NASCAR (NAS') |
We be on some motion (Ha), run out, knock a fan off (Ha) |
Audemars baguettes, you get 'em whacked, that’s 'bout a hundred rods |
Jump Out Gang leave 'em stretched, I bet that choppa shoot a hundred, yah |
Two fifties on this MAC, all black, we gon' knock 'em off |
That lil' nigga on some Loc shit (Clatt), two hundred bottom of the soul |
Not sorry that I got attached to Promethazine and Adderall (Ha, ha) |
Kiyah, that’s my new bitch, I got her some blue shit |
See what I’m sayin', I got the blueprint |