I can break it down like whatever you want
Buckshot Shorty
I can break it down like whatever you want
Buckshot Shorty

All glocks down, arriving is the bulletproof lyricist
R Rood Boy, big up, now hear this
I'm cl***ic like Coca Cola, why don't you roll a 'L' and make it spiffy
Are the L's twisty? Oh yes, let's get lifty

Long lived the rugged female, Heather B
So all you gun waving *****s, put down your glocks please
No need for playing the hard anymore
The bulletproof lyricist is knocking at your door

So open up let me in, let's get nasty if you wanna
I'll freak that butt like a filt by Heather Hunter
Touch you, touch you, I might just buss you
Buss your **** MC turned [unverified] east coast kid

How I swing bounce to Brooklyn
No need to tell you what I part took in
Just know Heather B is back in town
It's no question all glocks down

Glocks down, hit 'em with that funky sound
I can break it down like whatever you want
Glocks down, hit 'em with that funky sound
I can break it down like whatever you want

Glocks down, hit 'em with that funky sound
I can break it down like whatever you want
Glocks down, hit 'em with that funky sound
I can break it down like whatever you want

Walking with middle finger up, brown tims stepping through
Coming soon to a corner spot near you
It's the side walkin', rap talkin', hip hop sister
No need to try me mister

You got rhymes, go for it, we need no chorus
Freestyles coming from the door
And who's testing the untestable styles flexible
You gonna have to bounce twelve rounds

TKO by the third ***k what you heard
I didn't feel like playing around
'Cos you's part-time with a part rhyme committing no crimes
And claiming to be hard on the block

So feel my funk, my beat, my vibe
Recognize that I'm live or alive, you know the time
Kid just raise up, rise up, open your eyes up
I already got you sized up so wise up, *****

A 'L' to the neck, a double deuce, I'm best
And now my mind set, I'll be rowdy through the death
Due us part on love, rock crew right here in heart
Don't even play me, son, you'll get did done

Turning all gats or guns, I'll leave you
Shorty, with her hair undone
And then you know, Heather B is back in town
So no question all glocks down

Glocks down, hit 'em with that funky sound
I can break it down like whatever you want

I got my peeps to my left side and then my right
Can't wait until tonight when real *****s turn trife
I love the orange light from the dutch master tip
My whole crew bent a half a hunned gone spit

Chocolate tay true dat, yo, who him? Who dat?
Snatching up the 'L' like a snipper
Son, you will surely miss the next cipher
If you ever try to hog up the 'L' again

Last one to put in first son to dig in
Now I hear you riffing me while I'm counting your toke
The henloke burns my throat with no jaser
I'm feeling vibes by my hip from the black pager

Blowing up for the nine four for the nine five
For the nine square either way, say word, word
Heather B is in there to the most high
To the most def no quest all glock down

Glocks down, hit 'em with that funky sound
I can break it down like whatever you want