Styles P - Zip Em Up lyrics

[Verse 1: Grafh] Gudda Yeah (Bo, Bo, Bo) Yeah (Ah wha mi say) Yeah (Bo, Bo, Bo), Yeah Huh, I'm live streaming from the underground Get up under your skin 'til I push the blood around I'm at your baby momma crib pushin your son around The world is mine I'd be pushin the sun around Moon dust in this chain, let it twinkle It look bright in the light when I let it sprinkle This is not rap money, thats why its crooked and wrinkled Cause I was pushin my work instead of pushin my single This is raw, so holla at me if you need it cheaper I spit crack, holla at me if you need a feature This that sizzurp, n***a who need a liter My car foreign, my engine need a visa The nickel millimeter trigger need a fever (hot..) The refer that I deliver need a speaker Loud, hot copper, top shotta I punch n***as in their snot locker (wadup?!) [Hook: Grafh] We in this thang We in it good We out chea out We in the hood Them boys huntin They in the woods That red dot on your head, that ain't good, zip em up Put em on their a** now, zip em up Feel em with Tabasco, zip em up Bring another toe tag, zip em up Bring another body bag, zip em up Body Bag em, I zip em up (x4) [Verse 2: Styles P] Grafh Wadup I'll zip em up.. Ghost Body bag, DOA ADHD n***a letting the heater spray Coo coo, no clock The four pound and the Glock'll make the show stop Put a bullet in your b**h like Botox Before you get robbed, get gun bu*ted and throat chopped Wolves here Alpha male rep for the G n***as inside and out of jail [?] on ..and .. [?] on King Pin jeans when n***as had their Levis on Body bag, toe tag Mirk em and forget about em, end of the smoke bag I'll rip em up, knock em out, pick em up I'll stick em up, clip em up, hit em up Body bag, n***as better zip em up Ghost put em down, bet you can't pick em up [Hook: Grafh] [Verse 3: Loaded Lux] Vital lines that'll pleasant doctors The shots I throw hot as Russian vodkas Its hard to withhold they came cold and stuffed in lockers My art gothics in the age of forgotten logic Getting these pockets high as white chicks scary flick octaves I'm fine vintage, the life is just dying with us Mind wicked, a few thoughts will k** a n***a wit nine endings My kind ended off with the loss of John Lennon When human minds didn't recognize the reflection was God's image Life vengeance for vengeance, get your hinges kicked in shin Then go up top to the chin Thats how we get it in, when your doors rushed Another screw ball's clutched in my vice grip And the wrong turn to get your life stripped Sit tight, listen to dawg on it with God on it This knife split whatever fall on it, I'm for-warning This how k**ers hunt, my style's draft out, you witness Lux Might call K-Shine to zip you up! [Hook: Grafh]