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Boldy James - Lop Sided Lyrics



Boldy James - Lop Sided Lyrics
Official




[ Featuring Chuck Strangers ]

Where we at? (drug zone to the 50)
Jackson (Mafia, what else?)
Let's get it (uh-uh)

Cuttin' up on Mama fine china, playin' hardball, pitchin' side winders
Prize fighter, middle of the fire with them live wires (where we at?)
Passin' lane on North Western Highway, I'm a line driver (ayy)
Catch your wifey lackin' at the light, I'ma blindside her
Sideswipe her with this nine iron, I'm the pied piper (let's get it)
With the shits, nigga pissy rich but I ain't buyin' diapers (at all)
Claimin' he live the trife life, nigga, but mine's trifer
7.62s in the coupe, we be ridin' strikers (skrrt, skrrt)
They mad at me 'cause I look, dress, and cook better (Blocks)
Real-life Goodfella, on top of that I rhyme nice
The bag shaker, reckless eyeball and dime slicer
Balmain biker denim, rental full of white lightning (them bricks)
Three bodies in two attempts, shit, I'm a five-timer
Gritty, slimy weed, sticky, limy as a highlighter (glow in the dark)
These niggas bums, huddled up like a bonfire
Free my niggas 'hind them electric fences and that barbwire (free the guys)

The apple don't fall too far from the branch with me
Kill his whole family tree, turn it to some hot cider (grrt)
Faces in my pocket big as Mount Rushmore
Counting racks, I was strapped down like a rock climber (you know it)
Ziplining through the ghetto with my ConCreature (ayy)
Glock 9 and thirty-poppers, all you heard was shots fired (doot-doot-doot-doot)
From them 227 Hellblock top shottas (ayy)
Put that cheddie on a nigga head, leave it lopsided (what else?)

I'll leave your pupils dilated, don't get violated
Aim be dead on but still'll hit you if I sideways it (take him up top)
Taker get to quakin', shakin' shit up like it's vibratin'
Non-opinionated, state my claim and they gon' say I'm hatin' (f*ck 'em)
Only blazin' them strong songs, burnin' flames of Satan (burnin' flames of Satan)
Listenin' to WJLB, that's my favorite station (drug zone)
Can say a lot about me but one thing that they can't is
I never got wrote in the county, never made a statement (never)
I run with real lords, black piece stones and bounties
Royal Oak on my wrist, screamin', "F*ck Oakland County"
Got switches on switches and hundiddies, this shit get wicked (grrt)
So before you leave the crib, should hug the kids and kiss the missus (mwah)
Big orca in a small ocean full of squid, poolsharkin'
Still'll leave a nigga swimmin' with the fishes (it's the Jackson)
Long live the greatest, R.I.P. to the Ruler
Shoutout to my jeweler, I be syrup-sippin' in the trenches (gang shit)

The apple don't fall too far from the branch with me
Kill his whole family tree, turn it to some hot cider (grrt)
Faces in my pocket big as Mount Rushmore
Counting racks, I was strapped down like a rock climber (it's an art, climbing)
Ziplining through the ghetto with my ConCreature
Glock 9 and thirty-poppers, all you heard was shots fired (where we at?)
From them 227 Hellblock top shottas (ayy)
Put that cheddie on a nigga head, leave it lopsided (Blockworks)

Do you know who you killed, asshole? (Your mama)
We gon' stay here all day until you (he won't crack)
Nope, he's been in for thirty years
He's as tough as 3-inch steel
When I get back, I'ma buss your ass
I'll be here
Hello, this is a pre-paid collect call from
(Bo Jackson) come in here
This call is subject to recording and monitoring
To accept charges press one
To refuse charges-, thank you for using T-Netix
You may start the conversation now
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.


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English

Where we at? (drug zone to the 50)
Jackson (Mafia, what else?)
Let's get it (uh-uh)

Cuttin' up on Mama fine china, playin' hardball, pitchin' side winders
Prize fighter, middle of the fire with them live wires (where we at?)
Passin' lane on North Western Highway, I'm a line driver (ayy)
Catch your wifey lackin' at the light, I'ma blindside her
Sideswipe her with this nine iron, I'm the pied piper (let's get it)
With the shits, nigga pissy rich but I ain't buyin' diapers (at all)
Claimin' he live the trife life, nigga, but mine's trifer
7.62s in the coupe, we be ridin' strikers (skrrt, skrrt)
They mad at me 'cause I look, dress, and cook better (Blocks)
Real-life Goodfella, on top of that I rhyme nice
The bag shaker, reckless eyeball and dime slicer
Balmain biker denim, rental full of white lightning (them bricks)
Three bodies in two attempts, shit, I'm a five-timer
Gritty, slimy weed, sticky, limy as a highlighter (glow in the dark)
These niggas bums, huddled up like a bonfire
Free my niggas 'hind them electric fences and that barbwire (free the guys)

The apple don't fall too far from the branch with me
Kill his whole family tree, turn it to some hot cider (grrt)
Faces in my pocket big as Mount Rushmore
Counting racks, I was strapped down like a rock climber (you know it)
Ziplining through the ghetto with my ConCreature (ayy)
Glock 9 and thirty-poppers, all you heard was shots fired (doot-doot-doot-doot)
From them 227 Hellblock top shottas (ayy)
Put that cheddie on a nigga head, leave it lopsided (what else?)

I'll leave your pupils dilated, don't get violated
Aim be dead on but still'll hit you if I sideways it (take him up top)
Taker get to quakin', shakin' shit up like it's vibratin'
Non-opinionated, state my claim and they gon' say I'm hatin' (f*ck 'em)
Only blazin' them strong songs, burnin' flames of Satan (burnin' flames of Satan)
Listenin' to WJLB, that's my favorite station (drug zone)
Can say a lot about me but one thing that they can't is
I never got wrote in the county, never made a statement (never)
I run with real lords, black piece stones and bounties
Royal Oak on my wrist, screamin', "F*ck Oakland County"
Got switches on switches and hundiddies, this shit get wicked (grrt)
So before you leave the crib, should hug the kids and kiss the missus (mwah)
Big orca in a small ocean full of squid, poolsharkin'
Still'll leave a nigga swimmin' with the fishes (it's the Jackson)
Long live the greatest, R.I.P. to the Ruler
Shoutout to my jeweler, I be syrup-sippin' in the trenches (gang shit)

The apple don't fall too far from the branch with me
Kill his whole family tree, turn it to some hot cider (grrt)
Faces in my pocket big as Mount Rushmore
Counting racks, I was strapped down like a rock climber (it's an art, climbing)
Ziplining through the ghetto with my ConCreature
Glock 9 and thirty-poppers, all you heard was shots fired (where we at?)
From them 227 Hellblock top shottas (ayy)
Put that cheddie on a nigga head, leave it lopsided (Blockworks)

Do you know who you killed, asshole? (Your mama)
We gon' stay here all day until you (he won't crack)
Nope, he's been in for thirty years
He's as tough as 3-inch steel
When I get back, I'ma buss your ass
I'll be here
Hello, this is a pre-paid collect call from
(Bo Jackson) come in here
This call is subject to recording and monitoring
To accept charges press one
To refuse charges-, thank you for using T-Netix
You may start the conversation now
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: James Clay Jones II
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management

Back to: Boldy James



Boldy James - Lop Sided Video
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Performed By: Boldy James
Featuring: Chuck Strangers
Language: English
Length: 3:20
Written by: James Clay Jones II
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