Lyrics Rule No 1 By Alamo Records OnLine | Musica Lyrics

Alamo Records - Rule No 1 Lyrics

[Intro]
Know what the fuck goin' on, nigga
The future
14, 17
(That's nasty)
Bow, bow-bow
(Yo, Lucas, you heard?)
Bow, bow-bow

[Verse 1]
Like, why is they playin' wit' my body? (Like, what?)
What they smokin' on Notti? (No, they not)
Like, what they smokin' on Dot? (No, they not)
If they smokin' on bro, send 'em up with Lotti (Lotti)
I remember them nights, takin' trips (I remember)
Me and Notti totin' on that stick, saw an opp, threw a shot, and we made 'em run Rick, like
He was buggin', tryin' to make 'em a spliff (Bow, bow-bow, on bro)
Niggas be actin' real crazy, like
Like, whole time, they not
When I bring out my .30, I pass it to Loc, cause I know he gon' get 'еm, he gon get 'em shot (Bow, bow-bow)
'mеmber days posted up on the Ave, young lil nigga tryna get 'em a bag
He ain't have nun', so he had to go trap, started buggin', and flippin' them packs
Nowadays, see the face of this shit, he can go to Dior, get whatever he get
Can't a nigga say nothin', 'cause he buy his own shit
Saw the opps in the V, they ain't parkin' that whip (Bow, bow)
They ain't parkin' that whip, like
He gon' tweak, he gon' throw about 6
He lost his brother, he ain't goin' for shit
Before they take a hit, put one in the spliff (Put one in the spliff, nigga)
[Chorus]
Rule number one, you go on that drill, you better pull that trigger
Rule number two, you gotta watch out for the D's
Move tact, they always out to get you
Rule number three, it should've been rule number one
Thank god, you made it out the picture
If not, that bullet flyin' would've hit you (Bow, bow)
Now your mother cryin', cause she miss you (Cause she miss you)

[Verse 2]
Now we back on that block
I'm outside, so my killy's totin' on that knock
Move rogue when I pump, cause I'm gon' get you got
Bow, bow-bow
We gon' say you off to god
Dudey' the threat, and I gave him that name
He took trips so he gettin' that chain
Forget about R.G., BLOODIE, Banga
These are my niggas that'll let it bang
Better make sure they lock back door
If not, you gettin' sent to the Lord
Niggas be greedy, you give 'em a hand
Whole time they'll snake you and bite a hand off, like
They'll bite a hand off
Even after you done give 'em clothes
I will never trust a nigga, no
We get slime, we the ones that be wipin' they nose
[Chorus]
Rule number one, you go on that drill, you better pull that trigger
Rule number two, you gotta watch out for the D's
Move tact, they always out to get you
Rule number three, it should've been rule number one
Thank god, you made it out the picture
If not, that bullet flyin' would've hit you (Bow, bow)
Now your mother cryin', cause she miss you (Cause she miss you)