Delving into the raw and unfiltered life of the streets, NLE Choppa paints a vivid picture of his experiences. "Clicc Clacc" is a candid exploration of power, status, and survival in a world where danger lurks around every corner. The lyrics speak about his prowess, both on the streets and with women, asserting dominance and control. The recurring ‘Clicc Clacc’ motif represents the harsh reality of gun violence that is often part-and-parcel of such an environment. The song also touches upon the struggles faced by those incarcerated, showcasing NLE Choppa's solidarity with them. Through powerful imagery and metaphors, he portrays his journey from hardship to success while remaining grounded in his roots. This track is an unapologetic manifestation of NLE Choppa's life experiences, making it a compelling narrative for listeners.
Clicc Clacc
Lyrics
Yeah
Run the studio
Shit, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah (M-M-M-Murda)
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Ayy, the youngest to duel wit' a team (young)
I'm shootin' my shot like aren' (yeah)
My niggas ball like LeBron
Yeah, we got the ring (ayy, yeah)
He think that a young nigga lackin' (no)
I turned this bitch to a thriller
Like my name was Michael Jackson (hee, hee)
Yeah, yeah, Glock in my lap in traffic
Roll down the window, you know that I'm blastin'
Just like Denzel, all about action (bitch)
You thought I had luggage because I be packin'
She givin' me brain while the young nigga laid up
I'm a big dog nigga, better get his weight up (rr)
Last I got whacked, he met his maker
Put nut on her face like it was some makeup (yeah, yeah)
Clicc clacc, ratatat
.223s through your back, mmh (yeah)
Bitch, I ball like I'm Giannis (uh, yeah, ayy)
My clip, it hold about a hunnid (yeah, yeah, ayy)
We at your head just like a bunny (yeah, yeah)
Ayy, that murder shit is what we livin' for (twenty shots, ten dimes)
I caught him lackin' at the corner store (yeah)
You say that I'm not killin'
But you don't even know me though (bitch)
Bitch, I put a hole up in your head
Just like a Cheerio (yeah, yeah)
Clicc clacc, ratatat
.223s through your back, yeah
Clicc clacc, ratatat, yeah, yeah
I'm goin' in for my niggas in cell
Fuck the judge, they won't give 'em no bail
They sayin I'm hot, I'm hotter than Hell
They playin my songs on top of the jail
Brand new ice on the brand new watch
In the brand new drop top (yeah, yeah)
Just left V Live with a new stripper
That's a new thot thot (yeah, yeah)
Take her to the crib, I'm all in her guts
I'm giving her backshots (yeah, yeah)
I fucked her so good, she turned around
And thought I had two cocks (yeah, yeah)
Clicc clacc, ratatat
.223s through your back, mmh
Writer(s): Bryson Lashun Potts
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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