Rollin Hound Lyrics – Jay Hound

Read the full Rollin Hound lyrics by Jay Hound and Dusty Locane along with the music video, song credits, release information and other details about the song.

[Intro]
(EMRLD)
(Ayo, Eli, what the fu*k?)

[Chorus: Jay Hound]
Four opps got hit, in a row
Bro started throwing, they tryna get close
Bullets around him, they turn ’em to mold
Hollows they hit ’em, they making 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 gun so it’s no where to go
Why did you think running was an option?
Brodie had told me, “Don’t let ’em get low”
He was typing, 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

[Verse 1: Dusty Locane]
I don’t think that he making it home
Heart turned cold, so if my brother bit cheese I’m taking 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)
Waving the Draco, pass the ARP
I got Blood n!ggas and they Hounding
But you know I’m heavy on the C’ (Crip)
And the politics I can’t allow it
Go hunting, send him on a spree
Go the drop, from a opp b!tch, she put the air tag on the V’
We got the Lo’, you lacking for a treesh
No, we cannot leave a trace
I’m on parole and my brother got knocked for the pole

Know that he beating the case
Free smoke if you wanna get high
You know crodie got hit’s wit’ the Drac’
He wanna drill for the thrill
I brought Annie, now he moonwalking, (Hee, hee), in space

[Verse 2: Jay Hound]
Brodie bugging, 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 going out for some views
One by one, take the piece off the pie
And bro locked up, it was all on the news

[Chorus: Jay Hound]
Four opps got hit, in a row
Bro started throwing, (Graah, graah, boom), they tryna get close
Bullets around him, they turn ’em to mold
Hollows they hit ’em, they making 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 gun so it’s no where to go
Why did you think running was an option?
Brodie had told me, “Don’t let ’em get low”
He was typing, 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