Yung Gleesh - Spiced lyrics

[Verse 1: Yung Gleesh] (Check, aight, go) Crack table, black table where we shootin craps at (craps) Ass crack, boof pack, Act gon' pa** that, we past that Thirty-thousand dollars in the hatchback Flashback, abstract like who da told pet pack Knapsack, thirty pints of syrup no flapjack (flapjack) She take a n***a down, no talkin, no flap back Young n***a sound like me no sand sack Sand sack for a billion dollars to get wet wet What the Hell Gleesh talk about bein back back? Forty gram up and get down they toe check that Flauntin all down and off and dal and off a private jet I'm a get it, who ya kiddin? I ain't get challenged yet Head shot... drink (drink) ... stand up... drink (sip) Sit down... drink (drink), and I ain't lose my balance yet [Verse 2: Uno the Activist] I need to roll a blunt Ya, what ah ya what hah huh Coolin on the block smokin dope to the face n***as gettin smoked on the block erryday Pina he a crip of the pun not trey Sending out the shots, it get hot erryday Movin out the block with the stalk, set up shop Mixin up the red with the wop with the work Oh yeah, free the Wop, throw the guap on the dot (b**h) Diamonds in my watch, all you n***as finna watch (hey) (what ya what ay ya what what What ay ya what what ay ya what what) They wanna f** with my team, I keep me a chopper it came with a beam (oh) No genida I got the keys these b**hes they comin straight for the beast All of my dope please, it will turn any n***a to a fiend I swear to god now these b**hes they come, no way these b**hes won't leave I keep a drum, loud rututututm, the Bentleys they up in my sleeve (ya) n***as they come, but I keep a bum, or leave a n***a on his knees (what) b**hes they come, mollies on tongue, now me and her get along I feel like I don't belong, I guess I'm on VLONE [Verse 3: Maxo Kream] Ay take that n***a down Hit him for those pounds then you leave, not a sound Kick a n***a door, tie him up with the zip tie Stomped on a n***a, yeah I don't let sh** fly k**ers on his head, do the drop for a quick toe, I ain't never been a b**h Squeeze on the chopper till the gun go click (doot) dogs goin bark, keep it low like Vick (like Vick) Serving out the trap with the extendo sticks, going for the six-four, no nintendo sh** (uh huh) Sixty for them wops, they three a pop, we got a lot We pull up on your block, we set up shop, we give em out Mix Hi-Tech with that wop with soda pop, it's for my cough (*cough*) Got ten packs of them Xannies, they go for Peyton Manning Double wrap and seal the pack, hollows, hydros, dirty ratchets Frontin in that spinach, cabbage, ga**es, masks, smashes, spazzin Catchin blasts, hold the casket, Hi-Tech blastin, taste for taxin Leave the package down at Franklin, Reptar n***as, we Jura**ic