Criss Cross ft. 2Smokeyy Lyrics

Criss Cross ft. 2Smokeyy - Baby Mane

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Easy a million

Strapped up in a zoobie

Your homie he turned to a pack, he up in that zoot

Swear that we clutchin', my niggas, they bussin' them bullets

They comin' straight out of that roof

Push-bikes and dingers

We hangin' it off of the ped, hop out and shoot

You know it's a mission, we dodgin' these piggys

They watchin' the way, that we move

Watch the way that I lick shots

G-Wing or that C-Wing

Slice it up like it's crisscross

We in the trap with them big rocks

Outta town gettin' trappy

Call me Sosa, I flip rocks

The Rollie glide, it don't tick-tock

Free the guys, they can't stop clocks

Feds say we can't talk violence, it's all I know, I'm a driller

I didn't make, I didn't make no tunes for a dancer, I make bangers for a killer

Fell in love with the 12-gauge ting, but bro fell in love with the six-shot spinner

Go halves on a paigon, dish, if I catch him bro, finish him for dinner

I can count what's left of the gang with my hands

But it's calm, cah we still catch bodies

Bro doin'-bro doin' normal stabbings

Push all the way, man, do that properly

Bang, bang-bang like Rocky

Slide like hockey, I make man, shocky

Only had one bell in the chamber

And made man's head b- s- like noddy

Provide me a drop

I'll load it up and make this steel beat like Banglez

Any estate bro's got an angle

I'll fly out the ride tryna show man angles

Catch him, grab him, swipe his ankles

Holes in and out mans top

Two hands on his neck like a man got strangled

Tryna hold back that blood, what a shambles

Strapped up in a zoobie

Your homie he turned to a pack, he up in that zoot

Swear that we clutchin', my niggas, they bussin' them bullets

They comin' straight out of that roof

Push-bikes and dingers

We hangin' it off of the ped, hop out and shoot

You know it's a mission, we dodgin' these piggys

They watchin' the way, that we move

Watch the way that I lick shots

G-Wing or that C-Wing

Slice it up like it's crisscross

We in the trap with them big rocks

Outta town gettin' trappy

Call me Sosa, I flip rocks

The Rollie glide, it don't tick-tock

Free the guys, they can't stop clocks

I wish man try run up on me

Like I run up in yards for the grub and P's

OT, my ching-ching so bleaky

I was in the T with a WAP on me

How many men want me dead? Like 50

Pop Smoke, I got it on me

My solicitor's telling me, "Lay low"

The opps would love if they hear, "Free me"

Drills get-drills get done on the mains

They, baby, don't want none of that fame

Do a drill, bake off, all habibtis

Smile on my face, like, "How was your day?"

How many times did I change my number every time I use me a gun or blade?

And more time, I got it on me

I'd have to be fried, if I hopped out bait

Wait, pissed, cah they seen my face

And every time they olympic race

And I don't know nuttin' 'bout runnin'

I was on my ten toes up on estates

Bait, slave only for Allah, django

All the feds wanna see me caged, then

Then, the day they free Chubz and gang-gang

That's the last of the stress on my plate

Strapped up in a zoobie

Your homie he turned to a pack, he up in that zoot

Swear that we clutchin', my niggas, they bussin' them bullets

They comin' straight out of that roof

Push-bikes and dingers

We hangin' it off of the ped, hop out and shoot

You know it's a mission, we dodgin' these piggys

They watchin' the way, that we move

Watch the way that I lick shots

G-Wing or that C-Wing

Slice it up like it's crisscross (crisscross)

We in the trap with them big rocks

Outta town gettin' trappy

Call me Sosa, I flip rocks

The Rollie glide, it don't tick-tock

Free the guys, they can't stop clocks

J-J-Jester made this