Buckin': acordes por 
Grave Plott 
N/A
Key: C major•
Verse 1
Dm
This shit is dedicated to
my dirty thug brother,
Adam Anderson,
aka Xanax the Clown.
He passed away yesterday.
Stack Mack, Cracker Valley,
Grave Plot,
Liquid Assassin, Killer C.
Let's get up.
My people wait for a signal for me
to give them the get going
and they put the pistol out the window.
Buzz it you can't focus,
it's too late to get low.
After the shit that's been spoken,
we gon' cut through that motherfucker,
leave everything
I'm provokin' a pound in
the choke in the town
I was blowin' that purple
when you was smokin' that brown
I make phone calls to road
dogs that do what I say
You cross a line, now you mine,
homie, you gotta pay
Oh, by the way, we leavin', you leakin',
your family grievin'
You just bleepin' and bleepin',
they told your daughter you sleepin'
But even she didn't believe him
Tell him he popped shit
and got that ass killed
Cause that's real,
fuck it with the pale faced boys
that had you boxed up and measured
Chopped up and dropped in the desert
So think before your stupid ass
start poppin' that noise
You fuckin' with Stack Mack
and them Greyblock boys
We big in the bucket and bitches
you witness
Some shit that was none of your business
and then you with the mortician
And if you end up on the shit list
we gon' give you the fitness
And ain't nobody on the team
sleepin' till the shit's finished
We big in the bucket and
bitches you witness
Some shit that was none of your business
and then you with the mortician
And if you end up on the shit list
we gon' give you the business
And ain't nobody on the team
sleepin' till the shit's finished, uh
I'm a street monster, retreat your roster
Weak fleets get chopped up,
we speak with shotguns
Lead streets,
your car can keep sleep with garbage
Heat speaks, no problem,
heat beats, regardless
Fallin' semi -automatic and I'm blastin'
Maddox and taggin' em
Passin' traffic, we laggin' em,
wrapped in plastic, we draggin' em
But, I keep it proper
with pistols in my bandanas
Took a fall from the 8,
but I can feed you bananas
Stag on the track, it's a fact,
you get clapped with a strap
And crack goes to Mac
in a Mac 11
Gon' blast, lay you on your backpack
And I attack for the fact
that a counterattack could react
Get me trapped cause the gag
put me in a black sack
Cross my path or disturb my vision,
my palms start itchin'
Grab that burger,
bomb y 'all kitchen,
y 'all birds are grippin'
Man, we biggity buck y 'all bitches,
whole industry gon' feel
me infested with all my sickness
We big in the bucket and bitches
you witness
Some shit that was none of your business
And then you with the mortician
And if you end up on the shit list
We gon' give you the business
And ain't nobody on the team
sleepin' till the shit's finished
We big in the bucket and
bitches you witness
Some shit that was none of your business
And then you with the mortician
And if you end up on the shit list
We gon' give you the business
And ain't nobody on the team
sleepin' till the shit's finished
Stress and depression
with every breath that I'm breathing
I got your ass bleedin'
with your best bitch leavin'
I'm a pirate I'm confiscatin' your shit
It'll take nuclear weapons to sink my ship
I ain't no bitch,
but you gon' be my punk
If you need to take a nap,
go and sleep in the trunk
We don't take kindly to
bullshittin' women
Talk ya actin' like a prostitute,
go and get yourself some cock
A pine box is made for bodies in the street
A corpse on the low gets a whole six feet
Am I gonna die? sir, it was a final decision
But I can't take it back,
it's just the life that I'm living
I do what I do, just to get by
The dealers are supplied
and the fiends stay high
A monster was born
from the soul of a young boy
Sit back and listen
while I click -clack my toy
You think you're the marketed
bitches you witness
Some shit that was none of your business
And now you with the mortician
And if you end up on the shit list
We gon' give you the business
And ain't nobody on the team
Sleep until the shit's finished, uh
We big in the bucket and bitches,
you witness
Some shit that was none of your business
And then you with the mortician
And if you end up on the shit list
We gon' give you the business
And ain't nobody on the team
Sleep until the shit's finished, uh
We buckin' at bitches,
fillin' them ditches
Grave plot was stacked,
now your exit was stitches
Now your exit was stitches
Now your exit was stitches
Now your exit was stitches
Now you're next to the stage
Now you're next to the stage
Now you're next to the stage
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