Lyrics BiC Fizzle – Get Down Gang

(That's some Krishtall)

Ayy, bust it out, don't wrap a four with a batter (A four eight, ayy)
I can show you how to run up some cheddar (Some money)
Rented AR on the dresser, screamin', "1 Klan" while I stretch your old lady aggressive
Know I'm a big trend setter, mask up, put a boy on the stretcher (On the stretcher)
Packs in, I'm smoking 'em, pressure (I'm pressure)
Bad bitch wit' me, she gon' do what I tell her

Too young and ruthless, some niggas don't fu*k with me (Don't fu*k with me)
I'm still good with you niggas can't post up me (Can't post up)
You ain't on shit, nigga, stop gettin' your hope up (Huh?)
Give me a reason or somebody gettin' towed up (Gettin' towed up)
Dolce & Gabbana and Louie, I'm mixing shit up just to pop on a bitch when I show up
Money and guns, we totin' foreigns, walk on the beat, bet I step on your son
It ain't no rude, we fu*k over you, catch your ass outta bounds
Shoot you and the ref' (Murder one)
Glock 26 with a switch in my belt (Cash, grrt), go flap when I up out the side of my hip
I got more bullets than Brady
Mask up on a boy like Jason (Like Jason)
Run down, I don't really got patience (No patience)
I'm tryna get closer, put some' on the pavement, bah (Bah)
Ayy, woah (Woah), all this drip, boy, I better not cough (No cough)
Had the condom and stick, went raw (Went raw)
Slip when I fu*k, I'll spit in her mouth
And the trap go pound for pound (Pound)
Miss his pay, gotta get back in town (Las Vegas)
Dirty 30 my everyday carrier, I'm ready to up and put somethin' in the ground (I'm scary)
Better smile when you see me, don't frown (Don't frown)
Click up, I'ma shoot up your crowd (Get down, boy)
Gang members on go, no yap (No yap)
Walk down, I ain't shootin' no houses (I can't)

Hit his ho, say I fu*k on her better
I got me a champ bitch, and her name is Griselda
All the opps fly me like a arrow
Hit that fire, go chomp on his foot, bitch, I sound like a whale
On my mama, we shoot out wherever
Like I shoot out a sale like a Tesla
Freaky foreign lil' ho like a wrestler
He was long off the Percs, I'd love to go sin, never touched him
Double tip on my neck and my chest and my lip and my wrist
Go outside and in this month, left him with a lisp
Chop a back on his ass ass put one on his feet
I be ready to shoot, like my gun like my chick
I got some shit that I know they ain't ready for
Catch him lackin', wrap him like a kid, roll the splinter
When I try to put too many up in the clip
Some my new Jays do gymnastics, watch him do a flip
My big brother a Blood, but his pockets on Crip (Hold on, hold on, hold on)
We spent with a brand new stick, watch it sit off the rip
Grab a switch, get to swingin', that bitch like a whip (Whip, whip, whip)

Lyrics rating:
92%