Lyrics:
write the good rhymes
The whole scenery reminded me of good times
I don't like to feel that I'm put in a rut
By a young nigga that needs to pull his
Tallahassee
Under pressure niggas turning faggy
12 gauge when I slide why you lookin at me
Niggas don't know what I been through
I told that lil bitch she can
P.O.W.'s got hung
What the fuck do I know about a grenade
All I know is the couch and my 12 gauge
And what if that pin gets stuck?
Several more
P.O.W.'s got hung
What the fuck do I know about a grenade
All I know is the (????) in my 12 gauge
And what if that pin gets stuck?
Several more casualties
my trick ain't for kids, if you dig 'em, you'll get smacked
I'll clock ya, I'll spring forward, you fall back
Every album that I drop has got more
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,
Spending a Milly
Then I'm gonna fly this chick
Out to Japan woah
I need the advance
Cash in my hand
They want a 12 songs album no FTs
They gone give me
shoulder
Cuz it’s not safe
Burning hot plate
On ice
Praying that he doesn’t get stopped
On the block by the cops
They be coming for his life
Look
12
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
pledge allegiance to the 12 gauge Mossberg
I'm that nigga Mr. Sawed-off Leather face got a big gun in your face
Behind that bush and when they roll by
We
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
Millimeter Ruger
16 shots, hollow points will go through ya
and this? this here? this is a 12 gauge Mossburg kid,
two shots and you can wet like half
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
rifles and Tecs
And breakin' niggas' necks like bad checks
Outrageous with 12 gauges, 'L.A. Times' front pages
Leaving mingled bodies hangin' on stages
Obrigado por ouvir até aqui!
Posthumous song by a great friend who is still missing, Osvaldo Sussi
About the album:
""8 centavos e vários nada""
Yow Delly (eeeh)
Ah bare riffle dem dong a get kick wid
(long time)
Worse mi go get ah new ting from liquid (wha)
Mi have a 12 gauge wey name chesta
Spacing like I'm crazy blunts we smokin got some laces
Different stages same places smoking on a daily basis
Got a pump in the trunk wit a couple 12 gauges
Soon as they let me out the cage
I couldn't resist the urge to let out my rage
I let it out on stage,
The mic was my 12 gauge
I would blast any other
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
the morning by 6
Not on the gram scrolling through pics
But I’m busy writing my album
Makin original shit like Netflix
I’ve been scheming since I was 12
Dreamin
laid in a fuckin hot tub
Takin my 12 gauge shotgun and pop blood
Make hot sluts the Great Lakes lost flood
Then graduated to Jeffry Dahmer on dust
Because we've seen The Blueprint
With Jay we've seen that you could come in
The game and do 10, 12
15 – still win and still be the
King of hip hop we have
be the jumper
12 Gauge I call her rage and love to pump her
Let off a few shots clap clap dump her
And now I'm sitting in my coupe
System banging
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
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