In a world where the streets are the ultimate playground and survival is the game, Key Glock emerges as a relentless dream chaser. He’s mixing ambition with iced tea, sipping on sweetened dreams while flaunting his success like a badge of honor. Raised by the unforgiving streets, he learned to play for keeps, devouring weaker foes and shining bright with diamonds that reflect his hard-earned victories. His rhymes paint a vivid picture of opulence juxtaposed with raw street wisdom—where every move is calculated and every win is savored. With his .223 named TLC, he creeps quietly but strikes powerfully, embodying the essence of hustle and resilience. #StreetDreams #HustleHard #DiamondLife
Play For Keeps
Lyrics
Ah
Huh
Yeah (Sledren)
I dropped a four in my iced tea
Okay, and now it taste sweet (yeah)
I'm chasin' dreams like I'm Meek
The mil's is all that I see (yeah, yeah)
Jumped off the porch, yeah, with the torch
Bitch, I was raised by the streets (yeah, yeah)
Yeah, I was told to play for keeps
And don't let a ho play with me
I eat the weak, I'm a beast
A bowl of rappers, I feast
You know they say talk is cheap
Well, I baguette'd my teeth
Got some new winnings for my team
You can't compare to my team (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Who? Three letters, yeah, P.R.E (yeah)
Uh, yeah, yeah, uh (yeah)
Money in my pocket, in my hand and on your head (racks)
You heard what I said, chopper knock off face and dreads, uh
Cheatin' on my K, sleepin' with nina in the bed (yeah)
Yeah, I'm walkin' with the dead, Benjamins up in my pants
Yeah, yeah, bitch, I'm ballin', diamonds dance in my Lamb'
Yeah, yeah, bitch, I'm ballin', yeah, my left wrist cost a Lamb'
My left wrist cost a Lamb', damn, my left wrist cost a Lamb', goddamn
Goddamn, damn, goddamn
Goddamn, damn, damn, damn (the fuck?)
Goddamn, damn, damn, damn (yeah)
Damn, damn, damn (icy)
I dropped a four in my iced tea
Okay, and now it taste sweet (yeah)
I'm chasin' dreams like I'm Meek
The mil's is all that I see (yeah, yeah)
Jumped off the porch, yeah, with the torch
Bitch, I was raised by the streets (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Yeah, I was told to play for keeps
And don't let a ho play with me (uh, uh)
Nickname my .223 TLC 'cause I creep with the heat (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Got big ol' Glocks, we clear the spot and spin the block like CDs (yeah, yeah, yeah)
I stunt so hard, it look easy
You see white diamonds, I'm cheesin' (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Bitch, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Everything real, bitch, my grill cost a crib (yeah)
Solitaries in my ears (yeah)
Bitch, look at this here (yeah)
Bitch, look at this here (look)
My diamonds, they crystal clear (woo)
Yeah, my diamonds crystal clear (ice, ice)
I caught you starin' like a deer (bitch)
Come get your bitch, dawg
Look down at my phone, got twenty missed calls
Ridin' with a hunnid shots, I got enough for all of y'all
Yeah, I ran it up and ain't look back ever since, dawg
I pull up in the yellow thang with the yellow Richard Mille on, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, I hop up out the yellow Phantom, the yellow Richard on
Yeah, yeah, yeah, with a yellow Richard on
Yeah, I hop up out the yellow whip (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
I dropped a four in my iced tea
Okay, and now it taste sweet (yeah)
I'm chasin' dreams like I'm Meek
The mil's is all that I see (yeah)
Jumped off the porch, yeah, with the torch
Bitch, I was raised by the streets
Yeah, I was told to play for keeps
And don't let a ho play with me (nah)
Writer(s): Markey Cathey
Copyright(s): Lyrics © EMPIRE PUBLISHING
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
What is the Meaning of Play For Keeps
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