Lock Load Lyrics by Conway the Machine & Beanie Sigel
Yeah
It’s spooky
Way too spooky, n****
Yeah, uh
Yeah
Everywhere I go, I got it on me, n****
And I ain’t lettin’ shit slide
Go head and try me if you want, n****
I let this fuckin’ clip fly
GxF to the death, n****
And I’ll never switch sides
You know how we play it over here, n****
We get it poppin’ on this side
Lock, load
Lock, load
(You know what’s up, n****)
Lock, load
Lock, load
You can go and ask them other n*****, they’ll tell you what’s up
I already been through there and hit one of them n***** up
Momma start thinkin’ I’m crazy, baby mama think I’m nuts
Ever since them n***** shot me, I just stopped givin’ a fuck
I’m losin’ my marbles, lettin’ that AR go
Fifty shot sticks’ll do you n***** something horrible
Two-sixty on the digi’ dash, look how fast my car go
Talk about my face but can’t say shit about my bars though
Have my shooter snort a few grams, hit the store for the yams
While I’m smokin’ kush with a bitch I just imported from France
Rockin’ Bathing Ape shit that I just bought in Japan
I get to trippin’, get the blick and this AR in my hands
Every bullet in the cartidges land
The stick look like a guitar in my hands, drummin’ like I’m part of a band
My dog was behind the wall with your man
I heard you got friendly extorted in the can, you thought I was playin’
Everywhere I go, I got it on me, n****
And I ain’t lettin’ shit slide
Go head and try me if you want, n****
I let this fuckin’ clip fly
GxF to the death, n****
And I’ll never switch sides
You know how we play it over here, n****
We get it poppin’ on this side
Lock, load
Lock, load
Lock, load
Lock, load
SP Drumwork shit, yeah
211s don’t turn into 187s, uh
That black and grey checker hold the heckler
Ya vests obsolete when we squeeze from the neck up
M16s equipped with inf’
Feel like Tony, squintin’, reading the blimp
The world is yours, Chico
Uh-huh, the art of war is lethal
Never cease it if the score’s equal
I kill ’em all dead
Run in they spot, paint the walls red
Glock 40 for the bald heads
Sometimes I feel like hypocrite (Why?)
I kill a n****
Make duffel off a tour, but then it’s back to the wicked shit
Yeah, like I’m in tune with my Jen
A horror flick when I spit without using a pen
Dance with the devil, the death calling
I’m out the Buff with the slanted face killer with Bells Palsy
Call on a bluff, get stuffed in a can or wood coffin
Or get clipped when that clip with the switch to lift off
Lock, load
Lock, load
Lock, load
Lock, load
Yeah