Shy Glizzy
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Lonely Vibes

Shy Glizzy


I know that you miss me
But you got too much pride (Oh)
[?]

I heard another nigga got left last night
That's why I gotta keep a heater on my right side
Woke up to a phone call, a nigga said my homie died
Feel like the realest of 'em all, I'm on my lonely vibes
I, I get so high
Oh my, I get so fly
Blood all in my eyes, I seen real life
I seen thugs cry, I seen doves fly

Ayy, let's call baddies, you ain't got none
Ayy, my Nina glizzy is a Tefflon
Ayy, you play with Gigi, get your head blown, -own
I was on the move and now he dead and gone
They took thirty and it killed my soul
I do anything to protect my bros
I'm trappin' bags but you ain't tryna go to war
Just send the addy, bet we pop up at your door
Imagine mama puttin' yo ass down in the floor
Shoot you with my Rollie on, like bitch it's time to go
They call it Glizzy 'cause them Glocks is what we tote
I sold that shit, goin' in your nose, bro these street shit all I know

I heard another nigga got left last night
That's why I gotta keep a heater on my right side
Woke up to a phone call, a nigga said my homie died
Feel like the realest of 'em all, I'm on my lonely vibes
I, I get so high
Oh my, I get so fly
Blood all in my eyes, I seen real life
I seen thugs cry, I seen doves fly

All rats go to Hell, you know it ain't no tellin'
And you know what they say, that all thugs go to Heaven
We got trey-57s, Glock 9s and MAC 11s
Don't matter where I go, it's still forever Trey Seven
I got niggas pushin' melon
I just make the dab, call my nigga, he a felon
I turned him to a damn boss
All them lame fuckin' with me, fuck they think I'm playin', dawg
It was a big shoot out and you got caught in the damn cross
Got me sweepin' the whole block, yeah, like a damn mop
Skrrt off in a stolen Lamb, we call that a Lamb chop
Two bitches on the West side, make 'em suck the same cock
Hit 'em from they best side, I think they got the same dock, uh

I heard another nigga got left last night
That's why I gotta keep a heater on my right side
Woke up to a phone call, a nigga said my homie died
Feel like the realest of 'em all, I'm on my lonely vibes
I, I get so high
Oh my, I get so fly
Blood all in my eyes, I seen real life
I seen thugs cry, I seen doves fly

I know that you miss me
But you got too much pride
[?]
Then love me like [?]
Ooh, oh-oh-oh-oh

Compositor: Marquis King
ECAD: Obra #29339473

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