Fetti Gang - Laid Down lyrics

Hook: Riding with my AR with me (What?) Thuggin in the jungle with Slimmy (Ughh!) Posted on the block with my Tre pound (Trey pound) Playin with my chips you'll get laid down (Bow Bow) Riding with my AR with me (AR) Thuggin in the jungle with Slimmy (wooh) Posted on the block with my Tre Pound (Trey pound) Playin with my chips you'll get laid down (R.I.P.) (Hook) Wooh da Kid: Posted on the block with my FN, (What) Fully loaded 20 shots that's my best friend. (Bow Bow) Its Mr. Strap-a-holics now I'm reloaded. (ughh) I'm a man of my word, mother f**er quote it. (Kidd) Ridin with my AR front seat. (bow) Bring havoc to your block Wooh da mob deep.(Mob) Fetti Gang ridin packed that's the line up. (Mob) Disrespect my squad that will get you lined up. (ughh) (Hook) Ar Quest: Five dot five six millimeter Five n***as in the whip k**a speakers, This Tre Pound, Chipz Wife beater, Slimmy with me know he got them chilli heaters For Wooh I bust the tool if a n***a creep up Duck tape body parts that's a sleeper Thuggin like its nothin tell that s**a speak up It's 808 BSM tell em keep up (Hook) Slimmy: Bang bang rat-a-tata watch the crowd scatta n***as pissin me off, I got a bad bladder b**h I'm a monster, make people run and scream I gotta AR-15, I tote it in my jeans We got grew up off of guns and danger That chopper got me feelin like a power ranger, its danger Don't argue with these n***as I'm pullin out takin aim You standin close enough b**h I'm burnin you with the flames (Hook) Tre Pound: Its Tre pound and imma, sun of a gun Got goons to earth a n***a like third rock from the sun Now we keep yo b**h on co*k like a gun jammed They say I got a flow like im possessed, son of Sam We playin fastball, you pitchin underhand And if you ain't talkin bout money then we don't understand They say pound snitchin not.. can't be The only D.A. I talk to is Deb Antney (Hook) Chipz Ru: You f*ggots ain't ready I can bring you to the jungle You n***as is soft you ain't ready for this rumble I can make it crumble you ain't ready for this pressure BSM and Fetti Gang I leave em on a stretcher My AR and everything Tre Pound he gone let it ring You can let it gun sound, hit em with that flocka flame These b**hes is dumb found, but they give a lot a brain So that make it feel good, they just grip alot a grain (Hook)