Key Glock – Spazzin Out Lyrics

“Spazzin Out Lyrics by Key Glock”

[Intro]
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Uh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Uh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
(Ayy this that sh!t right here, dawg)
Uh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Okay
Ayy, this sh!t crack
Ayy, Juice, this sh!t hot
On God, on God, ayy

[Verse 1]
First things first, never too much money
I’m sippin’ on some purp’, thumbing through these blue hundreds (Yah)
B!tch, I ain’t tryna flirt, you gon’ let me fvck or somethin’? Yah
Glizzock in her tummy, I’m an animal, Jumanji, uh
Please don’t run up on me, yeah, show me my opponent, yeah
You niqqas jabronis, and I only dap you phony, yeah
You niqqas don’t want it, uh, go’n and board little homie
All that bullsh!t, don’t condone it, shoot you, I’m an organ donor, yeah
If you play with me, B!tch, I’m goin’ out like Tony
Carbon in the front seat when I’m riding ’round lonely
I get money in my sleep so I wake up money hungry
Told that B!tch I play for keeps, you can’t play me like no dummy

Key Glock, how you get the foreign?
B!tch, backends off of touring
Where you put all of that money?
Damn, your bankroll enormous
I be sh!ttin’, I need some Charmin
I be killin’ all my targets
Smokin’, smellin’ like I farted
Damn, I just funked up the party
Big pints, no bottles, uh, drinkin’ ’til tomorrow, yeah
Yeah, B!tch I get dollars, uh, I’m a don dada, yeah
Harlem GlobeTrotter, uh, shoot you and your partner, uh
Racks in my pocket got me walking with a wobble, yeah
Lean with it, rock with it
Sippin’ on some Wock’ (‘Hardt)
Motherfvck the cops, uh (niqqa)
Tell ’em suck a cock, yeah
B!tch I send shots, uh (niqqa)
niqqa I don’t box, yeah
You know I cannot, not stop gettin’ this guap
I pulled up with the top off, made her panties drop, yeah
fvcked your future wife in my Gucci flip-flops
Talkin’ ’bout can she spend the night? B!tch, kick rocks
Talkin’ ’bout can she spend the night? B!tch, I think not, uh (What the fvck?)

[Interlude]
Hold up, hold up, hold up, hold up, hold up
I be spazzin’
You ready?
Ayy, this sh!t sound so motherfvckin’ fire
Ayy, check this out, ayy

[Verse 2]
Dope boy sh!t, got my Air Max on, yeah
Riding down the block, grippin’ on my chrome, yeah
You know what I got, B!tch, my money long, yeah
B!tch, it’s big Glock, these hoes love my songs, uh

[Outro]
Yup, yup, yup, yup