Fighting Death Lyrics – Bloodhound Lil Jeff

[Intro: Bloodhound Lil Jeff]
(Judeh Productions)
(Ayo, Hustler, we gotta stack that guap, fool)
Yeah, yeah, all that (Old-ass goofy)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, Die Y, fu*k the opps, man
These n!ggas know how the fu*k we rocking
These n!ggas know who we talking to too, b!tch-ass n!ggas

[Chorus: Bloodhound Lil Jeff]
I’m King Draco, got my name off drac and splitting n!ggas’ s*it
Jump out the whips, they get to running, falling, tripping over s*it

I got too mad ’bout my lil’ bousin, Glock 23 and he can’t miss (Brrt, brrt)
Swing on my like fighting death (Uh-huh), fu*k I look like throwing fists?
Every Glock, it got a switch with fifty shots up in the clip (Brrt)
See blue lights, it’s time to dip, Glock 30S, it got a grip
They can’t go post up on their strip, pull up, send shots and then we dip
Big-ass Glock, it’s by my hip, they bag him up just like a zip

[Verse 1: Bloodhound Lil Jeff & Rell Vert]
Just ready the striker by an exit
We tote Glocks, no Smith & Wessons
If he sneeze, give him a blessing and send his dumb ass right to heaven
N!ggas b!tches, won’t address me
I know they probably wanna stretch me
My first hit, caught two for one like some cake from Little Debby
Shoot my Glock and watch ’em run
We stretch n!ggas out for fun
Always got the biggest gun
Can’t compare, I’m one of one
Shoot my Glock and watch ’em run (Alright, Lil Vert)
We stretch n!ggas out for fun
Always got the biggest gun (Alright, alright)
Can’t compare, I’m one of one (Alright, gang)

[Verse 2: Rell Vert]
Long live Jeff, he was one of none

When you talk about bodies, bro up a ton
N!gga diss my bro, cut out his tongue
N!gga say he want smoke, cut out his lungs
Do him so dirty, he got popped while his n!gga run (Let’s go)
Made him fall, we was doing this s*it just for fun
Ain’t got your blick, you better shoot or you better run, uh, uh (Run then, scary-ass n!gga)
But I always keep my blick
Catch an opp, he get hit in his s*it
79 my block, who you see me with (Let’s go)
Won’t tote no Glock if it ain’t got a stick (Uh)
And that b!tch gotta have a switch
A Glock 23 got lighter kick (Kick)
I’ll shoot a n!gga, I ain’t with all that fighting s*it
Lil’ b!tch a ho and you think I’m gon’ wife you, b!tch?
If I get locked, hope a b!tch never writing s*it
A Drac’ and a hot, got that Lil Jeff type of kit
Won’t get in that car if it ain’t got a tint (Uh-uh)
You telling me slide, but you ain’t never slid (Did s*it)
Stepping down my block, type of s*it I represent
He was woofing online, next week, he heaven sent (Woofing-ass n!gga)
I’m still in the ‘Raq, check my residence
Mask and gloves, leave no evidence
Lil Vert turnt up, gotta look like the president
Lil Vert up next, your boyfriend a (??) (Dumbass)
Don’t care if it’s raining, we gon’ spin, fu*k the weather
Four n!ggas fu*ked him up and now he a (??)
Can’t compete with me, every opp I’m better than
B!tch love me, she talking ’bout I’m heaven sent
Fu*ked her friend, ain’t leave no evidence (On bro)
(Look, I was just up on the block with a big-ass Glock, I ain’t ducking s*it)
N!gga wanna rap beef, I ain’t with it, catch a bucket, b!tch
N!ggas be on sucker s*it, talking ’bout did I fu*k his b!tch
Catch an opp and bust his s*it
I throw oof and scored a bucket, b!tch

[Chorus: Bloodhound Lil Jeff]
I’m King Draco, got my name off drank and splitting n!ggas’ s*it
Jump out the whips, they get to running, falling, tripping over s*it
I got too mad ’bout my lil’ bousin, Glock 23 and he can’t miss (Brrt, brrt)
Swing on my like fighting death (Uh-huh), fu*k I look like throwing fists?
Every Glock, it got a switch with fifty shots up in the clip (Brrt)
See blue lights, it’s time to dip, Glock 30S, it got a grip
They can’t go post up on their strip, pull up, send shots and then we dip
Big-ass Glock, it’s by my hip, they bag him up just like a zip, gang

[Outro: Bloodhound Lil Jeff & Bloodhound Q50]
These n!ggas can’t see me or be me (B!tch-ass n!ggas)
You know how the fu*k we rocking, how the fu*k we coming, man (We not putting s*it up either, we not putting s*it up)
These n!ggas hoes, man, yeah, gang (On folks grave, n!ggas want that smoke, come push up)