Lyrics:
nigga? You can't talk with a gun in your mouth?
(It wasn't, it wasn't me Dre)
You can't talk with a gun in your mouth? (It wasn't me)
Listen up, nigga,
Island
To shows at the garden
Automatic startin' in the drop got
Your bitch pussy fartin
My album about to drop in 7 days
But I still poke a rapper
a hobby, gun bustin' the job
But the sickest niggas out is the bitchest niggas out
And I could take em on the street and straight whip 'em in the house
I swear by Almighty God
To tell the whole truth
And nothing but the truth
Guns guns
They torture all the women and children
Then they've put
nazidogs fell by your gun
Fell by your gun, yes,
Fell by your gun
For more than three hundred nazis fell by your gun
In your mountains and canyons
or be swallowed
By the ocean all around so hollow
And the wreckage is warped and twisted
Sinking down in the darkness witnessed
The heavy guns keep
You can die on the strength of my gun
You heard me?
Mama's cry on the strength of my gun
You heard me?
Ride on the strength of my gun, you heard me?
hip-hop motherfuckas, you know what I'm sayin?
(Yeah yeah) shout out to Bobby, my engineer
It's a nice night in L.A
We're recordin' this mixtape and shit
my bed, I'ma lie in it, mum
Live by the gun, die by the gun (chyeah)
All the blood, sweat and tears that I shed was all worth it
When I see my
take this road (naw)
Free my bruddas locked up, I don't wanna (naw)
Get in there no more, I don't wanna (naw)
Drive by, make me throw out this gun
the homies
But like Sting was waving his ding-a-ling
We keep getting fucked by the Police
Ay, this a revolution season
But it takes a village and machine guns
we go with them choppers and guns
Choppers and guns, choppers and guns
Hope you got choppers and guns
My nigga lil Turn in the papers
Heard he
on
[Verse 1: Sticky Fingaz]
Who made black folks slam and throw they guns?
Who made da world bacdafucup in '91?
Who made niggaz go out and shave they head
Man on TV got a gun
Man on CD got a gun
I'm gonna get me a gun
Gonna be someone
I'm gonna be a man
Shoot 'em one by one
When I get my gun
You know
and used to hit it from the mids
Fix your playground player or
Some kids'll come stomp in your sandbox
Swollen hands cocked back
No knives, no drama, no guns
speaking the truth Cause he don't believes in lies
LA Legend with John legend Singing by ya side
In maybach on ya album cover Look at the sky
A G member
I get my pocket tapped Goodz
Ya Grape is in the street 'cause
Like Suge my pockets fat Goodz
Ya squad not strapped Goodz
Them guys by ya side will
Motherfuckers wanna start shit in every way
That's why I carry my motherfucking gun every single day
Motherfuckers wanna start shit in every way
Everyone wants to be a cowboy
Grab your guns boy
Forty-five by my side, do he live
No the nigga dies
We make moves in stage coaches
Rah digga likes
Everyone wants to be a cowboy
Grab your guns boy
Forty-five by my side, do he live
No the nigga dies
Zen, zen zen zen zen zen zen
You shot your
Ill Will ill Will's alive yea Killah Priest
Nasdaq Dow Jones ha ha
Guns for gun streets filled
With rivers of blood
Raised in the PJ's with real
Pedal drücke
Dann in deine Gegend fahre, die Gewehre lade
Den Mercedes parke, Feuerregen aus der Ak spitte, was Bitches?
Live by the Gun, die by
alarm clock be gun shots
My alarm clock be gun shots
My alarm clock be gun shots
My alarm clock be gun shots
Fuck you mean
Nigga I grew up in the trap
the muffler on the TEC
Respect to the Mack's and the Ac's
To the freaks in the Jeeps, lick shots to my peeps
Me holla respect, to all the gun men dem
Gun
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