Lyrics
I'm an Am Tracker, Ten-Oh-Eight saran wrapper
(You know it)
Snatching pills vacuum sealed full
Of graham crackers (Uh, huh)
Hand to hand trapper
Counting up them band rackers (yeah)
Big jack hammer on me looking
Like a sand blaster (What else)
Ninety round steel drum with
The shell catcher buck fifty in the Kel Tec
Apply some real pressure (Uh)
No seal on the pint- that’s a deal breaker
(Where we at with it?)
A nigga can't be scared of
Heights for that real checker (yeah)
Yeah it's two times, get a bag boys
The mob nigga cinder block, Concreatures
(Bo what’s the situation?)
You know how we coming stop playing
(Blocks what's the situation?)
Yes, yes come on
Get that load in then we put the press to it
Get that boy uncut then put some steps to it
Man this shit right here could take a six
Put some stress to it
Any obstacles we come across we
Put some death to it (Bulletholes)
My T-shirt alone? 28 grams of Gelato
Got that Listerine nut
These hoes catch it and gargle (Bitch)
Come to close I'mma spark you
So you better think better nigga (Boop boop)
Steer myself in my own lane like the Tesler
Nigga (In my own lane)
Heard they want to test a
Nigga- well I'mma ace it (What?)
Wasted flesh and faces off
Gold bottles of Aces (Blow)
Playing around with us? Dog high- he
Got some meth in him (Tripping)
Broski got the pints he the
Redman like Meth with it get a bag boy
With Concreatures on a cinder block
Girly cold
And she got potential? I'mma send her out
(Now take these pills)
Five star food in the spot
We selling dinners out
Drip sauce on your main hoe, I'm
'bout to dick her down, nigga
(Bitch)
I'm an Am Tracker, Ten-Oh-Eight saran wrapper
(You know it)
Snatching pills vacuum sealed full
Of graham crackers (Uh, huh)
Hand to hand trapper
Counting up them band rackers (yeah)
Big jack hammer on me looking
Like a sand blaster (What else)
Ninety round steel drum with
The shell catcher buck fifty in the Kel Tec
Apply some real pressure (Uh)
No seal on the pint- that’s a deal breaker
(Where we at with it?)
A nigga can’t be scared of
Heights for that real checker (yeah)
There's levels to this shit
I’m on the pedestal (Levels)
Looking down on niggas
My next move will be my best move
Hard grizzies of the dog, now it's crush grew
(Uh) you flex your muscle
I'm exercising the hustle
I just moved them blessings from jefe, SK
With the stock if you come with that
In the zone like the mid eighties
You get did dirty (Mitch)
On sauce, peach water got your bitch thirsty
(Whooo) max spitter on the magic wand
Beaming fiends up to Scotty
That monkey make 'em nod the Wiz Doctor
Rest in peace for a concoction
That’ll have me going crazy
With the dumb pockets
On the roll with my dog
And it's stuff with Rooney
When we touch back down, we doing the foolery
(Dumb)
I'm Coolio, where the money at and the green?
I'm tryna catch the next wave
So I'm in the sea
I'm an Am Tracker, Ten-Oh-Eight saran wrapper
(You know it)
Snatching pills vacuum sealed full
Of graham crackers (Uh, huh)
Hand to hand trapper
Counting up them band rackers (yeah)
Big jack hammer on me looking
Like a sand blaster (What else)
Ninety round steel drum with
The shell catcher buck fifty in the Kel Tec
Apply some real pressure (Uh)
No seal on the pint- that's a deal breaker
(Where we at with it?)
A nigga can't be scared of
Heights for that real checker (yeah)
All these seals of the maple
Make me feel better (Where we at)
Dingy scale on the table next
To my pill etcher (Uh, huh)
Brody just wrote
Said they sent him his appeal letter
And it's looking good like he
Finna give his time back
Got all plugs, and OT numbers in my contacts
My youngins singing on the dot
Killing for them contracts (Blocks)
Thousand band fonty
Got a million dollar mindset (Cha ching)
Another first forty-eight, that's a cold case
(Framework)
Judge sent shorty up state, with the boldface
Contemplating, just awaiting his parole date
Made man
Name on the street still hold weight
(The rank) the plot thickens
All my niggas in the spot clicking
I hop, skip to UTEP and Moneymox with it
(Skrttt) i two-step it, drop-kick it
Then I pot-whip it (Uh uh uh)
I drop-step, post pivot
Hit the block with it
We got the game tied up, nigga, stop tripping
I'm an Am Tracker, Ten-Oh-Eight saran wrapper
(You know it)
Snatching pills vacuum sealed full
Of graham crackers (Uh, huh)
Hand to hand trapper
Counting up them band rackers (yeah)
Big jack hammer on me looking
Like a sand blaster (What else)
Ninety round steel drum with
The shell catcher buck fifty in the Kel Tec
Apply some real pressure (Uh)
No seal on the pint- that's a deal breaker
(Where we at with it?)
A nigga can't be scared of
Heights for that real checker (yeah)
Heavy on the 227 the incredible Blocks
Boldy Blake-O
All this does, is up the stakes of the game
Fuck the stakes Boldy
I mean the only person that thinks this
Is a game to is you man
This is real, I mean this is serious shit
And I am scared ok? So I say we get the fuck
Out of here, now, tonight, ok?
You run you die
WRITERS
James Jones, Leon Mills, Leon Mills Jr., Miguel Brown
PUBLISHERS
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management
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Double Up
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This That
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Boss
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Ya Hear Me
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How Many Times
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Blood
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Bring My Niggas Back
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