Shots

Seventeen shots in my clip
 I'm rolling through the hood, motherfuckers don't trip
 Then I saw the liquor store, where they shot Little Joe
 Hanging out the window, puffing on some indo
 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 thinking
 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 hopping 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 hyna's pad, nine shots left
 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
 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 hyna
 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
 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, 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 SWAT 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
 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
 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