Lyrics:
non stopping in the studio hip hopping
And like a drive by got everybody ducking
West coast in the house so it's on and cracking
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
A 12 gauge Mossberg kid
Two shots and you can wet like half a block
This shit here gets my dick hard
It's a Calico, it holds a hundred shots
If you can't
speakin deceivin
my only greetin is peace and love
but still keep the snub, or .40 HK, pistol grip on the 12 gauge
arrived early in class before the bell
VERSE
KJV can't leave with out it
Is attached to the side of my hip
I put my trust in my god
But You put your trust inna grip
Scriptures loaded i stay
Ice on my wrist
Ice on my hips
Ice on my feet
I know I’m the shit
Ice on my wrist
Ice on my hips
Ice on my feet
I know I’m the shit
Aye, I’m so icy,
to get paid
If I don't make it in this game I got to get the 12 gauge
And all I'ma have to say is I tried to
Not only my dreams died, I lost my pride,
the hallway floor
12 guage blow slugs
Cuz five plus one
Tactical sightings make
Sure you getting them all
I got rifles and pistols
And pistols
someone ‘s dead already (Yea)
I gotta pop the lead
Cuz someone ‘s dead already (brrrt)
I Gotta get revenge
Cuz someone ‘s dead already
Tech on my hip I'm
we in a party, we in a party)
We in a party, I'm amused by how you move yo' body (Move yo body)
Baby girl she more poppin' in the 12 gauge Shawty
She
who shot ya
Funk Doctor with the 12-gauge Mossberg
Look I got the tools like Rickle
To make your mind tickle (yo, Red)
For the nine nickel
Yo,
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
be this mang
He spaz like 12 gauge gave them
Buck shots straight face aim to the chest frame bang
Someone save em I'm a bake em' asada con salsa güey
bad it got my mind racing
Way you move it make the time stop
The way you move them hips
Feel the pressure when I grip ya waist
And you fine I'm tryna go
of cush to push what I'm talkin about
It's hard to talk the talk with a gauge in yo mouth
It's hard to walk the walk with ya back blew out
Don't let
grip
Got the house by myself, just me and the dog. Ha, ha
Sometime ya know that your animal layin' in the floor, lookin'
at you like, say, "Uh, you
new place oppositions
Stand no chance against the best of us killers could it be
Any worse than a 12 gauge sending 'em into a hurst where
They are
suplemnal, 12-gauge-shot
To you're body, tha fuccin criminal
? westcoast beat ? who got tha ? I'm sicc on that gangsta-chit
Nah blood or crip, I'ma anybody
after dark (Murda) (Murda) Killin It just don't stop (Homocidal) The 12 gauge left you up and down But another victim called the D-E-A-D Listen to that
who shot ya
Funk Doctor with the 12-gauge Mossberg
Look I got the tools like Rickle
To make your mind tickle (yo, Red)
For the nine nickel
Yo,
[Chorus: Gucci Mane (Lil Scrappy): x2]
I rob in my black tee
Hit licks in my black tee
All in ya house searching for bricks in my black tee (Crank
Randy Mac is clockin a stupid grip
On the party track I'm cold lampin
But when the Syndicate rolls I be jackin
You thought I fell off, I ain't even
Deevil!
Prayin' that 12-12 for hell
Felon to sell and slept on a bed of nails like nothing I've ever felt
Ghost in a shell, was molded with other
are slugs to a punk
Homie they hit hard like a 12 gauge pump
I'll cock back let it jump on you chumps
Put you in a slump yeet yo body in the dump
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