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[A.L.T.]
(Verse 1)
Seventeen shots in my clip
I'm rollin' through the hood
Motherfuckers don't trip
Then I saw the
Liquor store, where they shot Little Joe
Hangin' out the window, puffin' on some endo
The owner's on his knees, and he's out in the front
Cleaning up the blood from Little Joe, I dropped my blunt
All Joe wanted was a six-pack of Bud
But the owners fingers itched, now my homies in the mud
I pulled out my nine
Without even thinkin'
Plus I was high as a kite, and I've been drinking
Only three blocks from the police station
But I pulled the trigger three times, no hesitation
As I sped away, I put the nine at my hip
I only got fourteen shots in my clip
Now
The cops was on my ass in 'bout a minute
It's all about a foot game, I knows I'm gonna win it
I'm hoppin' over walls
Dodging little dogs
Then I got ghost like a phantom in the fog
I'm hiding in the bushes
Shitting at the coppers
Then I took five shots, I'm hiding from the lights on the choppers
And I know I'm facing death
I made it to my heina's pad, nine shots left

Hook: A.L.T.
It's a trip
Better not slip
Just a little story about a glock nine clip
It's a trip
Better not slip
Just a little story about a glock nine clip

(Verse 2)
I'm the type of vato that never had a good day
I gotta watch my back when I creep through my hood, hey
I woke up in the morning
I'm next to my heina
"Baby, wake up, yo"
And then I got behind her
You should've seen that ass, I was just about to
Pound it
Then I heard the cops say, "We got the place
Surrounded
Come out with your hands up, son"
Then I broke the window with the butt of my gun
I fired at the cops {*two pairs of gunshots*}
I used up four of my shots
I got the glock
Seventeen with the hollow points
Fuck these motherfuckers, so I spark me up a joint
I only got five shots
Twenty-five cops
The man with the megaphone resembles my pops
So I {*gunshot*}
Took him out with a shot to the chest
Stupid motherfucker forgot his vest
Oh, shit
I better not slip
I only got
Four shots left in my clip
Now
The S.W.A.T. team came, I better think fast
Here comes the tear gas, that's my ass
I'm out the back, I almost made it
But the cop's black German shepherd means I’m faded
Then I had to think of my lucky number seven
I shot him three times and sent his ass to doggy heaven
Yo
Here come the pigs, think quick
I pointed my nine
But the gat went click
Then I felt my body get numb
And it's a trip
Just a little story about a glock nine clip

Repeat Hook Twice

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