Lyrics:
same ole song shit is that all you got
Zip drive full up song after song get bored make a diss tracks
For a rapper in the game
I don’t care where
them young guns
Like the words to a song
Wild at heart
Wild at heart
You have always been from the start
Wild at heart
Wild at heart
You have always
the rank
I don't care if you know frank
All your talking is poppycock
It's all insured by Plymouth Rock
I'm spitting hit and runs
Ask ghost I got a Tommy gun
my gun home, here borrow mine
Pop the nine like a judge "All rise"
This gun'll knock plants off tall guys
We value-packs, y'all small fries
Yo, I'm
I got a head, but ain't no screws in it
(money, money, money by the ton)
I got a head, but ain't no screws in it
(money, money, money by the ton)
there's kidnap, but she was with us so I brought her.
Dun got myself into a whole heap of trouble,
Double crossed by the law so it's nobody to run to,
she was with us so I brought her.
Dun got myself into a whole heap of trouble,
Double crossed by the law so it's nobody to run to,
Yeah it's just me
that's why we walk with our guns
'Cause those without guns get killed by guns
?? the one that will kill you son
It's the same where ever we from, it's
to the niggas that's turning it out
And maybe then, I'll take the gun barrel out of your mouth
Knowledge from one generation to another, perserve
and then
And I dare not frown for
Fear of what comes out
Sing a song, kitty sing it
Sing it, kitty sing it
Some people don't think that Lily
Is smart enough
to stop shop, got knocked when I popped the glock
Shit was ran right by me and my man Mike
'Cause I choose to use a gun don't mean that I can't fight
the band back on the road and we
Still got a lot of wild seeds to sow
LB prayed and Michael cried it was the
First time without you by my side.
Stage goes
Street
Who call themselves The Fugs
In April
They record by Harry Smith doing the
Punkiest songs yet to exist
Lo-fi noisy shit about poetry, sex and drugs
of Al Capone
Gun POW to the dome
And split the bone, wig blown off the ledge
By the alledged, full-fledged, sledge RZA edge
One dose of my feroc(ious)
nice
If they fucked with my music wouldn’t that be nice, if they went and saw my vision wouldn’t that be nice
If I could get by, cuz the song played
there's nothin' to gain by assumin'
I'ma say the definition of my name- the truest
I shocked 'em like real bullets in prop guns
Creep with baddies in
with America's #1 DJ, Funkmaster Flex
In collaboration with America's, pardon me, #1 independent rap label, Dipset
And right now I'm accompanied by
the end was at my feet
Willows and birds, their songs have sung
My wilting mind and dying eye, the smoking gun
Now, here I am, a man with everything gone
me, I speak in these songs
I speak how I feel, I feel like a gun
Yeah, a semi auto with a novice aim, uh
A lot of thoughts and a lot of pain, yeah
you?
(You the one that)
You the one that's acting
Like you moving zones, ain't you?
(You the one that)
You the one that's cappin'
Rappin' every song
feel like I gotta blend in constantly
But it is what it is
If I gotta shoot a Nerf gun, then I'll do it
I'm just having fun, blue pants and white tee
I
Uh Uh uh hey (Hey Shootbaby)
Huh Hello Hello (Hello)
Wait, what bitch!? (Damn, my fault)
Damn, you keep callin me (What's up, Deedot)
I made a song
through (ha ha)
But you (na na na na)
We dance we were young
We have songs to be sung
We had fun, play with guns
We look straight and we run
We pant
Where the bad bitches
I'm tryna bag em all
Niggas swear they really know us but they not involved
I always wear white forces when I make a song
But
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