Lyrics:
please have your gun if you afterinv me
Whoa, remember they was clowning , they was laughing at me
Now when they see me, they ask for a feat
Gotta pay me
down
Bury me with the flag, you're fucking beat down
And you're never going home
I don't want a 21 gun salute
I wanna be my ashes spread over the ocean
(Cause) none of this is fine
I control the wave
Watch traditions break
The gun
(The) trigger's in my hands
I could throw it all
Cut them off by law
The sun
me for no money now
Never went to school, never thought about Clark or Morris Brown (woo)
'Til I took your bitch, drop her off right there by Morris
gun
500 000 is not half of one
Caught the keys akisane for 63 hundred on sale I ordere for Bronx niggas
If you want it I'll head up with
though
(I'll show you how to do this son)
Nigga I'm a check writer, you're royalty receivers
Y'all eatin' off Per Diem, on the low like a Caesar
Pay ya
a call back
That's why he ducked off in a ball cap
Got a nigga waiting by the phone
Got a bitch mad cause a nigga left her lone
They aint even know that I
the Duck)
And, you wanna back off them hogs? Convoy
Yeah, 10-4, 'bout five mile or so
Ten, roger, them hogs is gettin' intense up here
By the time we
get laid
Stayin' soft with a hoe getchu crossed by a hoe
I break a bitch down then I'm off with the dough
I'm so hungry, I can't wait to eat
I ride
exceptions
Girl you know that ass is a blessing yea
She took off all her clothes and start undressing
She say she bout that life I think she flexing
Big thighs
than I bit off (Yeah)
I stay outta the way
And let these niggas get that mid off
You aint bout that life
You really living out a spin off
Humbled by
and the SIGs
Big thirteen, move off of murder and Bs
Got a deal that I rap, they can pay me for killings
I'm pushin' the Maybach and trippin' out Bentleys
an iPod 1
Before I even spit these rhymes the competition's done
I got a gun, aborted your son
He was 98 months, then other one was 21
Pull up and I fuck
I respect
ones before me
these new
Rappers borin
Thats why
I’m January tourin
On 24th
I’ll be 21
On stage
Big bottle pourin
I’m woke no
Joke
450 in
racing
Watch me take off and ride like a spaceship
And we packing big guns like the navy
And I'm outta my mind could you save me?
Cant fuck with these
21 (she young as fuck)
Let her some bust moves with me, let her hold my guns (glahh)
That's my lil Gemini bitch
Go get the bag for me (bring me
Bond
Nigga they stay with them big guns
Uh, I’m in her ribs uh
Come here lul bitch no you can’t run
Uh, fill up that tank uh
Skirting off fast oh I am
Yeah, yeah
Big L, Corleone (uh-huh)
My nigga C-Town, my big brother Big Lee holdin' it down (uh-huh)
Flamboyant, baby (I hear you), for life
We
Young boy took a liking
To them guns
Now he rob
Heard he robbed the same nigga three times
Wit his rod
Mod got killed by a childhood friend
Rio got off
Then I’ll get a bigger house
Type of shit I think about
Tryna big my bank account
Imma live by the gun and die old in Miami
You can tell how it’s cut
Souf side, Souf side
Yea
Soufside, Soufside
Yea
This old man can't show no love(love)
Honeybun drum how I tout my gun(gun)
I don't take shots,
raided the dope spot, eight year old kid got shot
'Cause they mistook his BB gun for a Glock
And I ain't forgot about the homie Lano
He got killed by
Besides, I ain't a thief, they won't pay me a visit
So if I come to your job, take your corn on the cob
And take a couple kernels off it, that would be
the blunt Smoke in
Play that number seven off of Solja Rags
Make a left by the overpass, Skys is grey overcast
Hold the stash Grab the masks then pull up
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