Blrr, ha, ha, ha (Medusa got that pressure)
You know once it's up with us, it's stuck with us
You see what I'm saying? Yeah (you know that)
Glock four-five, it's hand-held (boom, ha, thanks, Yakree)
Lil' shawty be my ratchet, caught a baddie out my fan mail
Boom, baow, boom
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, big thirty)
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 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 on some blue shit
See what I'm sayin', I got the blueprint
Amiri denim dripping with it, cost me you can't f*cking 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 f*ck, 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 Garcons, 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 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 on some blue shit
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', f*ck 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 to the trap, 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 motherf*cker, why the f*ck they gave me M's?
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 f*cking 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 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 on some blue shit
See what I'm sayin', I got the blueprint
Quando Rondo - Blueprint Lyrics
Quando Rondo - Blueprint Lyrics
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If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Blrr, ha, ha, ha (Medusa got that pressure)
You know once it's up with us, it's stuck with us
You see what I'm saying? Yeah (you know that)
Glock four-five, it's hand-held (boom, ha, thanks, Yakree)
Lil' shawty be my ratchet, caught a baddie out my fan mail
Boom, baow, boom
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, big thirty)
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 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 on some blue shit
See what I'm sayin', I got the blueprint
Amiri denim dripping with it, cost me you can't f*cking 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 f*ck, 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 Garcons, 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 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 on some blue shit
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', f*ck 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 to the trap, 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 motherf*cker, why the f*ck they gave me M's?
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 f*cking 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 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 on some blue shit
See what I'm sayin', I got the blueprint
You know once it's up with us, it's stuck with us
You see what I'm saying? Yeah (you know that)
Glock four-five, it's hand-held (boom, ha, thanks, Yakree)
Lil' shawty be my ratchet, caught a baddie out my fan mail
Boom, baow, boom
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, big thirty)
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 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 on some blue shit
See what I'm sayin', I got the blueprint
Amiri denim dripping with it, cost me you can't f*cking 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 f*ck, 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 Garcons, 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 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 on some blue shit
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', f*ck 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 to the trap, 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 motherf*cker, why the f*ck they gave me M's?
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 f*cking 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 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 on some blue shit
See what I'm sayin', I got the blueprint
Writer: Tyquian Bowman
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.