Lyrics:
my mouth, no slug
Quay-quay got me movin' like a slug
He got a 12 gauge, shootin' them slugs
I'm on the top, uh she givin' top, uh
Fuck around rob with
And, here comes the six foot four, the rough and raw
To blow up the mic with rhymes you like
I strike the stage in a rage and burn just like a twelve
growing and roaming, look
My mind says its twelve times its age
Say something different and I'll hit you with the twelve-gauge, look
Let me tell you how it
I'm bleeding
Whenever your crying I'm crying
12 gauge it's aimed to my chest not afraid of death when I'm pressed with your lying no Lying
Yuh yuh
hold it, head bone
I'm a 12-gauge, I don't niggas fishin' like a croaker
I make you visualize emotions, gun got rhythm, it's a poet
Niggas' pride's
Want To Do
More Money More Problems
Paper Chase
When I Sleep At Night
I Sleep With The 12 Guage
Coming Out The Valle
With Some Gangster Shit
This
Makaveli the Don puttin' it down to the fullest, maximum overload
3 Day Theory, Killuminati to your body
with the impact of a 12 gauge shotty
Double-I
12 gauge shotty
And a fucken millimetre to match
Fast forward just an hour
Now its all in the past
Daily dreams about it
Smash my head up on the door
12 gauge pump will leave you breathless
Believe me, homeboy, you don't wanna test us
Buy the time we through I bet you boys respect us
Texas players
a 12-gauge shotty
Got machetes and them cannons loaded up
Got them xany's and that lean in my cup
These politician's can come up missin', I'm on a mission
You
at Saks Fifth, I'm real attractive
Look at the way that she back it
Up, up, wow
I'm up in the clouds, call me around
12, I'm in a shootout with 12
I'm
bitches, they know they gon' snitch
Hop out the V, back out the trunk, put the 12 gauge on his hip
Baked on the couch, I got the munchies, we watching Morty
By Twelve than carried by six
You gotta run real hard to style like this
I got my Gucci on and it match my kicks
It's Mr PoloSport XL type fit
I told
style
static never had any so I'm packin a black
automatic pistol itchy by the C.I.A.
By the way, my display of rhymes that I will lay
down on wax,
hunt with a 12-gauge pump
Sendin muthafuckas to the dump
The nigga killa, known to slam a hoe
Finger on the trigger, lettin the hammer go
Boom-boom,
armor, bomb ya!
So quick to test us, nigga wanna crash me, eat dust
For the love of the lust, niggas busting on us
Hit 'em up with the buck, 12-gauge
armor, bomb ya!
So quick to test us, nigga wanna crash me, eat dust
For the love of the lust, niggas busting on us
Hit 'em up with the buck, 12-gauge
armor, bomb ya!
So quick to test us, nigga wanna crash me, eat dust
For the love of the lust, niggas busting on us
Hit 'em up with the buck, 12-gauge
rather get it from the dirt, yeah, rather get it from the dirt, yeah,
Eyes peeled for that twelve,
Jumped off the porch before 12,
Bout ninth grade when I
armor, bomb ya!
So quick to test us, nigga wanna crash me, eat dust
For the love of the lust, niggas busting on us
Hit 'em up with the buck, 12-gauge
Paying top dolars because they know
When we're on the stage, we're in a mothafuckin' range
So Dre, why don't you get the 12 guage [yeah]
And show 'em how
every crime known through the equator
They knew I did it (uh-huh) for havin' blood on my 'gators
My weed'll hit your chest like a double barrel gauge
looked up, and all I saw was blue lights
If I die tonight, I'm dying in a gunfight
I grabbed the AK, my homie took the 12 gauge
Load 'em up quick,
engaged
Turn blowouts to 360 waves
How this 12 gauge feel sittin on ya tongue, on ya lips 'n'
dippin with money L in the green beamer
Sippin Zima's, on our
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