Got a Glock .40 with a broom, how I'm sweeping
Ain't no tucking my gun toting, you gon' see it
Take no xans, my body hopping, ain't no sleeping
Sew your lips up, calm that talking fore you reaping
Tell my momma that I'm sorry, I'm a demon
Yeah, I'm slimy, but I leave a nigga bleeding
Cross county with that check, run 'til my feet stiff
Anybody get it, glockie might baptize the Deacon
From the 407, I come straight from out the O
I be slidin' with a shooter, and you know my case cold
How you cryin' for some mercy, but you know I ain't got no soul
Call your momma up and tell her that you won't make it home
Mayday, mayday, yuh, the pilot missing
Amber Alert, jit got picked up in his kitchen
Mask on his face, got a Glock to his neck
I'm just tryna' go 'cause my Glock ready and set
Oh damn, extended clips
Nigga runnin', a busted lip
I don't do the same, I pop pills while I sip
Wonder where we go, yuh, when we f*ckin' dip
Think about the chopper, think about the bullets
The way I snap a pic, got me looking like a tourist
Coke under my nails, always the purest
Stay with a llama, 'cause you know I'm a terrorist
Got a Glock .40 with a broom, how I'm sweeping
Ain't no tucking my gun toting, you gon' see it
Take no xans, my body hopping, ain't no sleeping
Sew your lips up, calm that talking fore you reaping
Tell my momma that I'm sorry, I'm a demon
Yeah, I'm slimy, but I leave a nigga bleeding
Cross county with that check, run 'til my feet stiff
Anybody get it, glockie might baptize the Deacon
Dorien - Don't Shoot the Deacon (feat. Diavlo13) Lyrics
Dorien - Don't Shoot the Deacon (feat. Diavlo13) Lyrics
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Got a Glock .40 with a broom, how I'm sweeping
Ain't no tucking my gun toting, you gon' see it
Take no xans, my body hopping, ain't no sleeping
Sew your lips up, calm that talking fore you reaping
Tell my momma that I'm sorry, I'm a demon
Yeah, I'm slimy, but I leave a nigga bleeding
Cross county with that check, run 'til my feet stiff
Anybody get it, glockie might baptize the Deacon
From the 407, I come straight from out the O
I be slidin' with a shooter, and you know my case cold
How you cryin' for some mercy, but you know I ain't got no soul
Call your momma up and tell her that you won't make it home
Mayday, mayday, yuh, the pilot missing
Amber Alert, jit got picked up in his kitchen
Mask on his face, got a Glock to his neck
I'm just tryna' go 'cause my Glock ready and set
Oh damn, extended clips
Nigga runnin', a busted lip
I don't do the same, I pop pills while I sip
Wonder where we go, yuh, when we f*ckin' dip
Think about the chopper, think about the bullets
The way I snap a pic, got me looking like a tourist
Coke under my nails, always the purest
Stay with a llama, 'cause you know I'm a terrorist
Got a Glock .40 with a broom, how I'm sweeping
Ain't no tucking my gun toting, you gon' see it
Take no xans, my body hopping, ain't no sleeping
Sew your lips up, calm that talking fore you reaping
Tell my momma that I'm sorry, I'm a demon
Yeah, I'm slimy, but I leave a nigga bleeding
Cross county with that check, run 'til my feet stiff
Anybody get it, glockie might baptize the Deacon
Ain't no tucking my gun toting, you gon' see it
Take no xans, my body hopping, ain't no sleeping
Sew your lips up, calm that talking fore you reaping
Tell my momma that I'm sorry, I'm a demon
Yeah, I'm slimy, but I leave a nigga bleeding
Cross county with that check, run 'til my feet stiff
Anybody get it, glockie might baptize the Deacon
From the 407, I come straight from out the O
I be slidin' with a shooter, and you know my case cold
How you cryin' for some mercy, but you know I ain't got no soul
Call your momma up and tell her that you won't make it home
Mayday, mayday, yuh, the pilot missing
Amber Alert, jit got picked up in his kitchen
Mask on his face, got a Glock to his neck
I'm just tryna' go 'cause my Glock ready and set
Oh damn, extended clips
Nigga runnin', a busted lip
I don't do the same, I pop pills while I sip
Wonder where we go, yuh, when we f*ckin' dip
Think about the chopper, think about the bullets
The way I snap a pic, got me looking like a tourist
Coke under my nails, always the purest
Stay with a llama, 'cause you know I'm a terrorist
Got a Glock .40 with a broom, how I'm sweeping
Ain't no tucking my gun toting, you gon' see it
Take no xans, my body hopping, ain't no sleeping
Sew your lips up, calm that talking fore you reaping
Tell my momma that I'm sorry, I'm a demon
Yeah, I'm slimy, but I leave a nigga bleeding
Cross county with that check, run 'til my feet stiff
Anybody get it, glockie might baptize the Deacon
Writer: Michael Giotto, Warrick Dawsey
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid