Listen to Blam Blam song with lyrics from Killer Mike

Blam Blam

Killer Mike10 Apr 2007

Blam Blam Lyrics

Blam Blam - Killer Mike

Yo one time for yo man this is Grindtime check and

Welcome to the Grindhouse

 

And we gonna do it West Indian Style for you this time

Yo sniff and cash on the B'

When the glock go blam blam

You die you don't get jiggy yo you're done done

No there's no where to hide nor where to run run

Grindtime motherf**ker here we come come

Once again

When the glock go blam blam

 

You die you don't get jiggy yo you're done done

No there's no where to hide nor where to run run

Grindtime motherf**ker here we come come

Rude boys if you feel me bust your gun

Usually the two would be

Beside me when I cruise the street

Blue your feet blue your seat

He who moves usually

Cool it be slow your roll

These niggas here dey cool with me

Rock the same shoes as me

Went to the same school as me

News would be

That these niggs I am tryin bring up on ya

I just called to let ya know

You need to keep the K up on ya

Chop up all these credit cards

Career is all that laid up on ya

Skeet skeet

Move fast don't let them bitchs lay up on ya

You know you really wanna be rollin instead

Hey there some niggas out here

Tryin to put a hole in yo head

Hey and sold ya for bread

Finding the life that we chose

Fast cars and this money

And these trifling hoes

Keep it real

Who wanna test a the goon or the pride

I keep it on my hips they call me onsly

Go and let a few fly

That made a few die

Some fell straight down others handglide

But none of them survive the rising of the tide

Drown in they own blood

Like pigs in the mud

Insert a few buds

Make sure he don't bud

Toss or throw away

I don't hold the grub

When the glock go blam blam

You die you don't get jiggy yo you're done done

No there's no where to hide nor where to run run

Grindtime motherf**ker here we come come

Once again

When the glock go blam blam

You die you don't get jiggy yo you're done done

No there's no where to hide nor where to run run

Grindtime motherf**ker here we come come

Rude boys if you feel me bust your gun

Cancer sniff hands just split

Scoop me in the jag and dip

Nag a bichs and flag a ship

Over there like a bag of chips

Whodini and genie out of a bikini that's a magic trick

Abra Kadabra I caught it all on camera

While I my major stamina

F**k all the amateurs

Smoking lavender

It's slightly lighter than purple with a murk

My family matters but ain't no urkels in my circle of trust

Amongst eachothe we trust each brother

There's another mad situation

Sad situation

 

That every ni**a I know is in a bad situation

Situation

I'm tired of waiting

Tired of being patient

 

Tired of waking up wondering if we gonna make it

Gonna make it

My hands are full

I'm a grindtime disciple

 

Right hand the bible

Left hand the rifle a rifle

 

We freed us boys

And we both got the greens

I got mine from the schools

He got his from the streets

 

Told me little ni**a

Don't be like me

Like me

Yes I didn't listen no disrespecting he

Now back to me it's kind of sad

That that's all I want to be

A member of the game

Rapping and using slang

And even at career day

I said the same thang

Teacher shook her haid

What a god damn shame

But really motherf**ker

Who really should you blame

I had protica my environment

 

Workin towards retirement

Just another motherf**ker

Trying to come up

Hand above the water

And get head from your daughter

But who gives a f**k

Go on and sign me up

Big slim in the building ni**a throw ya G'z up

When the glock go blam blam

You die you don't get jiggy yo you're done done

No there's no where to hide nor where to run run

Grindtime motherf**ker here we come come

Once again

When the glock go blam blam

You die you don't get jiggy yo you're done done

No there's no where to hide nor where to run run

Grindtime motherf**ker here we come come

Rude boys if you feel me bust your gun

The rugor man the toolastan

From here to Jerusalem

 

Used to move it down

Twelve hundred sixty two grams

Heavy chevy running f**k it

It's a bucket trap car

Red dogs to my ni**a

Man trap a trap star

Hell naw we under rated

Down'll be the day mo'

Catch me in da eight mo'

Yeah I got the yay mo'

Slip double played partna

Parking lot pimping on em

Dropping topping flipping on em

Cop a block and flip it on em

P**sy boy boxy boy

You ain't never shattered shatta boy

You a boxy boy

Never shat a boy

That's why I shot all ya shattas boy

Left em dead

On all my hotter boys

Blunts of madosia

Saturate the polo

Leave a man older nickle fofo

Straight like mad cobras

Car jot em come get em

Cause his life over

Tell em chef john brown

If he come through town

He will be shot down

'Pon sight 'pon day 'pon night

He'll be dead upon the river

With them boxy boys

And them in for my niggas

Beaten swollen bloated like a elephant man

Blunt swollen bloated like a elephant man

Past getting high smokin for the hell of it man

If you ain't grindtime

You're irrelevant

 

Not Peel not Jones Mario sh*t

I'm sorry hoe

Not Zack not Jack not Bill Collector

Ey f**k you very much

Hope you have a bad day grindtime blam

You die you don't get jiggy yo you're done done

No there's no where to hide nor where to run run

Grindtime motherf**ker here we come come

Once again

When the glock go blam blam

You die you don't get jiggy yo you're done done

No there's no where to hide nor where to run run

Grindtime motherf**ker here we come come

Rude boys if you feel me bust your gun

 

***Lyrics are from third-parties***