Hounds

Creeper, aw man

I keep that Glock up on my waist and watch the bodies hit the ground
Your a bitch a fan and she be begging Let me in the compound
Test your limits swear to God little boy your body won’t be found
Keep that Glock up on my waist and feed your body to the hounds
It go 1 2 3 4
Fell in love with violence, and I’m knocking at your door
It go 1 2 3 4
All the bodies dropping and you got nowhere to go

No I don’t wanna talk
And I don’t wanna dance
You catch me hopping out the whip you get to running man
So I be sprinting hopping fences In designer pants
If I don’t catch you then you know I’m popping at your man’s
You be eating my led fucking up your system
Glock leave you dead but I said you’re missin
Fucked in thе head got some fucked tеmptations
Glock leave you dead but I said you’re missin

Glock up on my waist and watch the bodies hit the ground
Your a bitch a fan and she be begging Let me in the compound
Test your limits swear to God little boy your body won’t be found
Keep that Glock up on my waist and feed your body to the hounds
It go 1 2 3 4
Fell in love with violence, and I’m knocking at your door
It go 1 2 3 4
All the bodies dropping and you got nowhere to go