Blade Icewood - Game On Lock lyrics
rate me
(feat. K-Doe) [Talking] Ahhh, You now rockin' with the best (uh huh) Ice Ice Ice (Icewood) let me clear my throat, Icewood!!! [Verse 1: Blade Icewood] I got the game on lock ya'll know my name since the last time I dropped a whole lot done changed I'm fresh up out the gutter man, the doors go up now the hoes use to hate me, now they love my style In New York they love my country slang I'm from Detroit where niggas get rich off cane don't be fooled, yeah I rap, but I'll bust your brain Stomp your ass with these Icewood kicks. Now I done, Stuck ya bitch niggas can't tell me shit Louie straight out the cup your bitch all on my dick she can't keep her eyes off my neck and wrist I don't blame her she probably never seen no shit like this you better get her, 'cause I love me a bitch that's thick and I know she would love to get fucked in the six If she a smoker, she probably love this Purple shit Now she in the Trans, turn the sounds up so she can do my dance [Hook x2] We got the Game on Lock, Heat stay cocked We got that work and we'll flood your block We keep it crackin' over here baby, yeah We keep it crackin' over here baby [Verse 2: K-Doe] It ain't hard to tell, shit I know you know by now Dirty Glove run the town, rap, bricks, or pounds Keep the strap real close, who say I'm doing the most caught two heater cases still ride with the toast but hey, I'm living in the Dirty D and they really wanna get you when they nineteen a key, see You ain't even on my level when my voice hit the track niggas turning up the treble son of a rebel, scoop work with a shovel try to tell 'em, don't get slick you fuckin' with the devil Yeah, and my mind ain't right, sometimes when I get bored I just hop on a flight, get out of sight to a place where the bricks are white And you don't gotta count it 'cause the cheese be right If you knew what I knew You probably get your shit together go and switch up your crew, yeah [Hook x2] [Verse 3: Blade Icewood] I let my mag talk for me, my jag talk for me my cash talk for me, yo, what up homie talkin' that tough shit you really don't know me these hating ass rap niggas so damn phony I'm getting blowed in that seventy-two old on spinning rims, word on the street I'm cold with the flow gangsta, gangsta, I'll show you how to do it rims, twenty two inch, gems, looking blueish I know I sound arrogant, but dogg I'm so rich Original Chedda Boys, dogg and we run shit selling out the hood like Master P went to Gary, cashed out on that three tone masterpiece with yellow diamonds, fine diamonds square diamonds, round diamonds, been down for a while but I'm still shining tried to cop that Bentley Coupe with the suede lining but it's a 6-0-8, same color rims out the gate [Hook x2] (Thanks to Brandon for these lyrics)
