If I Crash This Car on a Glide Lyrics – TPL

If I Crash This Car on a Glide Lyrics

{intro: bm}
Dt5 on the beat
Senseii
Shout out fumez on this one, you get me?
Plugged in

{hook: bm}
In zone 8 tryna cause some hell
Made philly dance, cut shapes as well
They can’t hack beef so they sing like adele
War is war and time will tell
Glock 32, no .32 bells
Get well soon if you hold these shells
Youngers to olders scream like girls
Rise this well, that’s a dig-up a cell
In zone 8 tryna cause some hell
Made philly dance, cut shapes as well
They can’t hack beef so they sing like adele
War is war and time will tell
Glock 32, no .32 bells
Get well soon if you hold these shells
Youngers to olders scream like girls
Rise this well, that’s a dig-up a cell

{verse 1: mini}
If i crash this car on a glide
Don’t worry ’bout your car getting dented
If i jump out, swing my shank
Pierce man’s lungs, and i f^^^^^g meant it
Stack my bread then i got it invested
Waps on deck, in the nizz i test it
Tp gang from the deepest trenches
Get back where? get back in them benches
Hold up, wait, i ain’t finished this sentence
Four waps up, this smoke squad settings
Jump out gang, put the opps on pendants
Fifteen inch but the glock’s my preference
Five man deep, that’s perfect attendance
Why the opps keep hurdling fences?
Don’t ask me personal questions
Ching man down, i’m jerking him endless

{verse 2: sava}
Blacked out gla or mokka
Me and s in a bruck-down honda
Spin that whip if i see me an opper
Call backup, chinged him proper
Samurai sword cuts like a chopper
Roll with the glock, fill it with copper
Got live corn for an opper
They don’t wanna see what i got in my locker
Them man there just talk on the gram
I get ’round there in a ding-dong van
Looking for him or a so-called fan
Slide that door, young g go ham
Pray that the .44 ting don’t jam
Rate that aim 99, no sam
I’m on the opp block tryna rise and tan
I’m on the opp block tryna rise and tan

{verse 3: bm}
I got bare gyal ’round, jiggy-jiggy on deck
In ofb got the jiggy on deck
In n17 got the blikky and kwef
O way or no way, he still get cheffed
Don’t move right, you will get left
Shots get beat from the 9 and 10
Baddie, baddie give drops in {?}
Flick it, flick, it that’s blades in necks
Who’s that? my man throwing up os
You can get left like the christmas ghost
Drugs, money, it come from the coast
White like tommy and brown like saint patrick
N—–s get lit like i’m lighting my matches
Shots get sent, we don’t wait for no catches
Fresh out the box and it’s automatic
Tell the driver, “stop here, let me slap it”

{verse 4: mini}
I’m on the backroad, i’m on my jack jones
But still we crash corn at them
I beg you don’t leave your friend
Six feet deep where the opps get sent
Sh^t gets peak and i know they’re stressed
Cah the otp’s got loaded skengs
Spin that whip, try catch me an m
Tell my young g’s don’t lack like dezz

{verse 5: sava}
Two-litre ride, let’s go on a glide
Sh^t get’s peak when us man ride
In my mother’s hood where my opps get fried
Known to the pigs as a violent guy
You best not lack, got my zombie knife
Got no waps, so the rap is a lie
Invest in shanks, still don’t ride
Kidnap squad, don’t rap no lies

{verse 6: bm}
Who’s that? what’s that?
Jump out, get him
In the nizz with a rusty weapon
Two aks, put the 4 in the 7
Have you ever seen a golden berettan
Slap that corn at his melon
Slide tru’ with the wesson
Question, question
Why the f^ck are you leaving your bredrin?

{hook: bm}
In zone 8 tryna cause some hell
Made philly dance, cut shapes as well
They can’t hack beef so they sing like adele
War is war and time will tell
Glock 32, no .32 bells
Get well soon if you hold these shells
Youngers to olders scream like girls
Rise this well, that’s a dig-up a cell
In zone 8 tryna cause some hell
Made philly dance, cut shapes as well
They can’t hack beef so they sing like adele
War is war and time will tell
Glock 32, no .32 bells
Get well soon if you hold these shells
Youngers to olders scream like girls
Rise this well, that’s a dig-up a cell

{outro}
Fumez the engineer