Rollin Hound Lyrics Jay Hound & DUSTY LOCANE
(EMRLD)
(Ayo, Eli, what the ***?)
Four opps got hit, in a row
Bro started throwin’, they tryna get close
Bullets around him, they turn ’em to mold
Hollows they hit ’em, they makin’ him fold
Tryna spin, think you lo’?
‘Ooter gon’ pop out the cut wit’ his pole
G2C, the designer is-
G2C, the designer is clothes
Gave him a choice, you could run or meet death
Beam on the *** so it’s no where to go
Why did you think runnin’ was an option?
Brodie had told me, “Don’t let ’em get low”
He was typin’, then he post
Then the bullet had went through his bone
Call EMS, think he need a surgeon
I do not think that he gon’ make it home
I don’t think that he makin’ it home
Heart turned cold, so if my brother bit cheese I’m takin’ my own
And I’m still in the hood so if you see me on that block don’t think it’s a clone
We got [?] and TECS, they chrome
Ain’t no leg shot, aim for his dome, we get ’em gone (Fahh)
Wavin’ the Draco, pass the ARP
I got Blood niggas and they Houndin’
But you know I’m heavy on the C’ (Crip)
And the politics I can’t allow it
Go huntin’, send him on a spree
Go the drop, from a opp ***, she put the air tag on the V’
We got the Lo’, you lackin’ for a treesh
No, we cannot leave a trace
I’m on parole and my brother got knocked for the pole
Know that he beatin’ the case
Free smoke if you wanna get ***
You know crodie got hit’s wit’ the Drac’
He wanna drill for the thrill
I brought Annie, now he moonwalkin’, (Hee, hee), in space
Brodie buggin’, he fried
They think that he laced when they look in his eyes
I got some bullets I’m tryna provide
I send ’em out if you touch one of mine (Like, gangster)
He tryna front, he on live
But I cannot risk goin’ out for some views
One by one, take the piece off the pie
And bro locked up, it was all on the news
Four opps got hit, in a row
Bro started throwin’, (Graah, graah, boom), they tryna get close
Bullets around him, they turn ’em to mold
Hollows they hit ’em, they makin’ him fold
Tryna spin, think you lo’?
‘Ooter gon’ pop out the cut wit’ his pole
G2C, the designer is-
G2C, the designer is clothes
Gave him a choice, you could run or meet death
Beam on the *** so it’s no where to go
Why did you think runnin’ was an option?
Brodie had told me, “Don’t let ’em get low”
He was typin’, then he post
Then the bullet had went through his bone
Call EMS, think he need a surgeon
I do not think that he gon’ make it home