Soul Reaper Lyrics

Soul Reaper - Quando Rondo

...

[Intro]

Ha

They got me fucked up if they thinking I ain't gon' rock out

(Damn, Jam, this shit a vibe)

(Yo, Vicky)

[Chorus]

They got me fucked up if they thinking I ain't gon' rock out like I'm pussy

Don't call the cops, we draw the chops, switch on the Glock, hit like a fully

Holding thirty shots, scrap with my rod

Wait 'til it's dark, jump out the bushes

We screaming, "Fuck a nine to five," I'm on the block gripping a toolie

All out the roof, that stick go boom, bam

Rundown, chopper, love the gun sound

I know they hate I live a gangster lifestyle

Can't go nowhere without that banger 'cause my life wild

Nigga ran up on me then we sprayed him, I'm talking lights out

Wе do the dash in that Derango, jumped out with that pipе out

So tell 'em pipe down

[Verse]

My grandma told me that I'm close to my casket, that's why i keep a ratchet

Thirty clip on me with that stick in the backseat

Lets see who 'bout that action

Switch on that MAC, yeah we gon' up it and blast it, this bitch automatic

He made a diss, wait 'til the day that we catch him, we gon' see who really savage

I had to cut off my lil' bitch for treating me like a marriage

Jump out that tree gripping that stick and let that fuck nigga have it

Load up them Glocks, walk down the street, we gon' through this shit here forever

Extension stock, G23, I'm tryna knock off a rapper

I'm on my block, boy, come and creep, I don't think you want no real static

I don't give a fuck 'bout who got beat, it's 'bout who got turned to ashes

We steady passing out scratches, tats on my back Famous Dexting

I'm from the bottom of the 'jects, we bang 6-0 in my section

Girl, you ain't more than my best friend, I only trust in that Wesson

We hit the A, I-95 then bought some Glocks out the West end

.223 and .556, I better cave that boy chest in

Realest shit I heard from my lil' partner is like load up that [?]

[Chorus]

They got me fucked up if they thinking I ain't gon' rock out like I'm pussy

Don't call the cops, we draw the chops, switch on the Glock, hit like a fully

Holding thirty shots, scrap with my rod

Wait 'til it's dark, jump out the bushes

We screaming, "Fuck a nine to five," I'm on the block gripping a toolie

All out the roof, that stick go boom, bam

Rundown, chopper, love the gun sound

I know they hate I live a gangster lifestyle

Can't go nowhere without that banger 'cause my life wild

Nigga ran up on me then we sprayed him, I'm talking lights out

We do the dash in that Derango, jumped out with that pipe out

So tell 'em pipe down

it's Crayzie