Lyrics Glocks Go Pop - Solomon Childs

Glocks Go Pop

Yeah, uh-huh, aoow, heh
S. Childs, you niggaz can’t see me (uh-uh)
I got on an invisible suit, nigga
And I’m by myself (that's right)
That means you try to get at me
I’m all by myself, nigga (fo'sho)
Dead presidents, with forty big bags of rubberbands
And the hood ain’t getting it I need sands and beaches, magnums
For snakes and leeches, this an original masterpiece
The motto, fire at the beast
Chicken wings and cocaine, the simple and plain
Ain’t nothing complex, tax free money
No checks, and listen I don’t talk to pranksters
Too busy breaking bread with gangstas
Or putting holes in the head of you wankstas
Niggaz inflated like silicone, a bunch of big mouth niggaz
Damn, it feel so good to be home
One o’glock, two o’glock, three o’glock, pop
Four o’glock, five o’glock, six o’glock, pop
Seven o’glock, eight o’glock, nine o’glock, pop
My guns they pop, around the clock
General with four stars, possess the power
To pimp twelve bars of knowledge, murder
Struggling neighborhood wars, some like it hot
Some of the livest motherfuckers get popped
Never who dat, bitches tell me how the pipe game
Behind making so much style, the kid’ll pimp a pair of etonics
Had the pleasure to build with the Gods
Even shared the same bowl with dogs
Brought up on the robbery, Lord of the Rings
Part three, this the hard copy
Championship, mister headline
Everybody enjoy the show and get ready to ride, come on You don’t wanna see the hammers display
Go have me call Nitty and Ray Ray
Go have me shoot up your field gate, rep Henderson and Broadway
You don’t want it, homey, gun game, knuckle game, homey
Gun flame, in the game, homey
Semi automatic with the strap
With more respect on the streets, in the late '80's than Kojak
Niggaz’ll get burnt up, like a lab worker in Iraq
Solomon Childs, extra extra, chrome nine millimeter
A/K/A Carmen Electra, feel me That’s right, out with the old, in with the new
Fo’sho…