Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Suburban, Pt. 2′ by 22gz. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of 22gz or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.
(Ghosty)
(Catch one of y’all niggas slippin’ out here, nigga
It’s gon’ be murder, nigga)
Hoodie on, mask on, strap drawn
Tryna run, he didn’t get that far
If his bro tryna spin dat block
Gang gang gon’ switch that car
Kill a opp, broad day, get blasted
Lawyer gon’ spank that charge
Hanging out, all black Suburbans
Blikky gon’ hit that target
Hoodie on, mask on, strap drawn
Tryna run, he didn’t get that far (c’mere)
If his bro tryna spin dat block
Gang gang gon’ switch that car
Kill a opp, broad day, get blasted
Lawyer gon’ spank that charge
Hanging out, all black Suburbans
Blikky gon’ hit that target
Whole lot of shots knock his face off it
Dude will hang out the roof of a Draco
Back from the Ms and the case closed
Blood on my kicks, that from stomping his face off
Chop off a limb with a chainsaw
No cap, I’m in the booth with a bankroll
Stuffing the clip, a whole trey-o
He ain’t gon’ shoot, why the f*ck is he gang for?
Run up on Fetty, cap Fetty, that’s Fetty
Count hella bands, wouldn’t chase that zelly
Henny on Henny on Henny on Henny
Gang in the spot, get deady on deady
Busting a .40, spit on your shorty, don’t do Bacardi
Bust a piñata, open ya mata, shoot up the party
F*ck it, we loud, jet the head, get beat up like Marley
If I’m on the East
Then I’m in the fields so I’m up and gone
Thirty clips, that mean hella bodies
Spin your hood and kill anybody
If he missing the medics got him
He ain’t dead but we paralysed him (gang, gang, gang)
Hoodie on, mask on, strap drawn
Tryna run, he didn’t get that far (c’mere)
If his bro tryna spin dat block
Gang gang gon’ switch that car
Kill a opp, broad day, get blasted
Lawyer gon’ spank that charge
Hanging out, all black Suburbans
Blikky gon’ hit that target
Getting money off the zelly, in and out her like a deli
Free that nigga Skrelly, put a bullet in his belly
B and B, so f*ck a telly, fucking up a shot
We don’t do the jumping, shotgun start the pumping
See him slipping, I’m a dump it
Kill a nigga then we dump ’em
Throw his body in a dumpster
Spin through like, ay
He moving or walk, he get shot in the face
I heard they dropping the rates
Well we got the addy and we on the way
Swerving, lurking, slip then murk ’em
Purge with burners, it’s a murder
Hearse him, put him in the dirt
They got his face prints on a shirt
Hop out, strap drawn, head tap
Tryna run, he ain’t get that far
Spin through, two shooters, one driver
We gon’ kill that boy
We gon’ bend that block, we gon’
You gon’ hear that noise (you gon’ here that shit)
All we know is dead opps, no attempts at leg shots
Hit him in his head top
Hoodie on, mask on, strap drawn
Tryna run, he didn’t get that far (c’mere)
If his bro tryna spin dat block
Gang gang gon’ switch that car
Kill a opp, broad day, get blasted
Lawyer gon’ spank that charge
Hanging out, all black Suburbans
Blikky gon’ hit that target
Hoodie on, mask on, strap drawn
Tryna run, he didn’t get that far (c’mere)
If his bro tryna spin dat block
Gang gang gon’ switch that car
Kill a opp, broad day, get blasted
Lawyer gon’ spank that charge
Hanging out, all black Suburbans
Blikky gon’ hit that target
Sniper the blikky, the blikky, the blikky, the blikky
Free Kodak Black
Lemme catch one of y’all niggas comin’ out the corner store or some shit
It’s litty, gang!