lirik lagu kid vanta - “blick up” part 2
[intro: kid vanta]
(ayy jacob, turn me up, bruh)
yeah!
y’all know what the f~ck goin’ on
kid vanta… bl!cked up, huh
luh tyler, talk yo’ sh~t!
let’s go, bl!ck up!
[verse 1: kid vanta]
i don’t do no talkin’, b~tch, i pull up and i bl!ck somethin’
catch him in the dark, mask on, let that stick drum
they say vanta wildin’ — h~ll yeah, i been numb
poppin’ out the bushes like surprise, now his clique run
thirteen but i’m movin’ like i’m thirty in the field
f~ck the opps, f~ck they fam, and f~ck how they feel
i was slidin’ with no license, glizzy in the wheel
grew up on that war zone, all i know is drill
ain’t no peace where i’m from, it’s just murder and lootin’
instagram cappin’ ‘til we see them in person, then we shootin’
got my cousin in the trap and my shorty still boostin’
glock on my hip like a badge, no recruitin’
if hе act tough, we gon’ turn him to a mural
hollows hit his dome, now he thinkin’ morе spiritual
p~ssy boy was tweetin’, now he prayin’ for a miracle
talk that hot sh~t, now he sleepin’ like it’s cereal
[chorus: kid vanta]
bl!ck up! bl!ck up! who the f~ck want smoke?
ain’t no leg shots — we aim straight for throat
slide with the gang, we don’t play, we don’t joke
gotta beam on the top, now his chest got a glow
bl!ck up! bl!ck up! yeah, we lit off the rip
catch an opp slippin’, he get smoked like a zip
thuggin’ in the city with the k on my hip
i don’t talk much, b~tch, i empty the clip (bah, bah, bah!)
[verse 2: luh tyler]
i don’t argue on the net, i just get that drop
f~ck sneak dissin’, we gon’ spin they block
hundred rounds in the drum, we don’t need no stock
he was hard on the ‘gram, now he folded like socks
big bands on my jeans, i ain’t flexin’ no cap
made a 10~piece play, then i doubled it back
they be watchin’ my page, tryna copy the swag
but i’m too far ahead, they ain’t catchin’ this bag
all black hoodie with the ski on tight
lil’ vanta got the switch, i just tell him, “go right”
we don’t miss no targets, b~tch, we shoot on sight
he ain’t make it to the doc, shoulda prayed last night
i ain’t never been a b~tch, ask your homie, i’m real
still slide in a civic with the dope in the wheel
bl!cked up every day, like i’m signed to the steel
and we ain’t squashin’ sh~t ‘til somebody get k!lled
[chorus: both]
bl!ck up! bl!ck up! who the f~ck want smoke?
ain’t no leg shots — we aim straight for throat
slide with the gang, we don’t play, we don’t joke
gotta beam on the top, now his chest got a glow
bl!ck up! bl!ck up! yeah, we lit off the rip
catch an opp slippin’, he get smoked like a zip
thuggin’ in the city with the k on my hip
i don’t talk much, b~tch, i empty the clip (fah, fah, fah!)
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