[Verse 1: A.L.T.]

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 endo

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 heina's pad, nine shots left

[Hook: A.L.T]

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

[Verse 2: A.L.T.]

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 heina

"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 {*two pairs of gunshots*}

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 {*gunshot*}

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 S.W.A.T. 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

[Hook: A.L.T]

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