DY of 808 Mafia - Front Street lyrics

[Intro: Fredo Santana] Front Street Savage Squad Ay Gleesh what's up man (808 Mafia) [Hook: Fredo Santana] Standing outside on Front Street Yellow-black Charger it's a Bumblebee Them n***as down there don't wanna run with me Them n***as done they don't want none of me A hundred keys up that's a hundred key A hundred P's up that's a hundred piece Thank God the Lord for trapping this weed Thank God the Lord for trapping this weed [Verse 1: Yung Gleesh] I said I'm down the street on Front Street A hundred P's don't want beef If n***as want to beat me n***as just don't wanna be 30 rounds and 30 rounds The clip's holding 50 rounds 400 thousand shove it down Still trying to calm me down Pulling out, pulling out Up and up the van's loud Dropping off, dropping off Box of bullets copping out Work with the working mobs n***as they just copping out Dirty block, dirty block, that's a dirty block (Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah) That's a dirty cop All you n***as sit there with the dog The worst kind in the world The best time ??? [Hook: Fredo Santana] Standing outside on Front Street Yellow-black Charger it's a Bumblebee Them n***as down there don't wanna run with me Them n***as done they don't want none of me A hundred keys up that's a hundred key A hundred squeeze up that's a hundred piece Thank God the Lord for trapping this weed Thank God the Lord for trapping this weed [Verse 2: Fredo Santana] On the corner selling marijuana, Gleeshy in that Charger Man we just hit a robbery Been selling crack since I was eleven, I'm a triple OG Man ain't nobody hard as me I'll put this paper on your head, I'll tell my n***as k** you And they best not do it sloppily I got my Ruger to my Eagle, told my tank I keep my shooters And they do it for monopoly You don't want war boy, n***a check the scoreboard Pull up in a two door, pull up in a four door Shoot you in your front line, leave you on your front porch p**y a** n***a, I told you you don't want war [Hook: Fredo Santana] Standing outside on Front Street Yellow-black Charger it's a Bumblebee Them n***as down there don't wanna run with me Them n***as done they don't want none of me A hundred keys up that's a hundred key A hundred P's up that's a hundred piece Thank God the Lord for trapping this weed Thank God the Lord for trapping this weed