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"Laid Down" lyrics by WOOH DA KID
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"Laid Down"
[feat. Fetti Gang]

[Hook: x2]
Riding with my AR with me (What?)
Thuggin in the jungle with Slimmy (Ughh!)
Posted on the block with my Tre pound (Trey pound)
Playin with my chips you'll get laid down (Bow Bow)
Riding with my AR with me (AR)
Thuggin in the jungle with Slimmy (wooh)
Posted on the block with my Tre Pound (Trey pound)
Playin with my chips you'll get laid down (R.I.P.)

[Wooh da Kid:]
Posted on the block with my FN, (What)
Fully loaded 20 shots that's my best friend. (Bow Bow)
It's Mr. Strap-a-holic now I'm reloaded. (ughh)
I'm a man of my word, mother fucker quote it. (Kidd)
Ridin with my AR front seat. (bow)
Bring havoc to your block Wooh da mob deep. (Mob)
Fetti Gang ridin packed that's the line up. (Mob)
Disrespect my squad that will get you lined up. (ughh)


[Ar Quest:]
Five dot five six millimeter
Five niggas in the whip
Killa speakers, This trey pound chips
Wife beater, Slimmy with me know he got them chilli heaters
For one I bust the tool if a nigga creep up
Duck tape body parts that's a sleeper
Thuggin like it's nothin tell that sucka speak up
They say the way bent, slim tell em keep up


Bang bang rat-a-tata watch the crowd scatta
Niggas pissin me off, I got a bad bladder
Bitch I'm a monster, make people run and scream
I gotta AR-15, I tote it in my jeans
We got grew up off of guns and danger
That chopper got me feelin like a power ranger, it's danger
Don't argue with these niggas I'm pullin out takin aim
You standin close enough bitch I'm burnin you with the flames


[Tre pound:]
It's Tre pound and I'm a, sun of a gun
Got goons to earth a nigga like third rock from the sun
Now we keep yo bitch on cock like a gun jammed
They say I got a flow like I'm possessed, son of Sam
We playin fastball, you pitchin underhand
And if you ain't talkin bout money then we don't understand
They say pound snitchin not... can't be
The only D.A. I talk to is dead Anthony


[Chipz Ru:]
You faggots ain't ready I can bring you to the jungle
You niggas is soft you ain't ready for this rumble
I can make it crumble you ain't ready for this pressure
BSM and Fetti Gang I leave em on a stretcher
My AR and everything
Tre Pound he gone let it ring
You can let it gun sound, hit em with that flocka flame
These bitches is dumb found, but they give a lot a brain
So that make it feel good, they just grip alot a grain


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