Lyrics:
dice with they feet
Think they got the funk, that one fool got stomped out
'Cause he's a mark with a gun
The nosy bitch up the street called 9-1-1
to sell cocaine
And I was taught to buy guns so big when I go to the roof
I can aim and shoot down a plane
Infa-Red's my name but fuck all that
Fall back
to the underground connect
Pah!! I'm wreckin any MC you select
Yo E, load me in your gun, light the flares
Give me forty-eight bars, and I go out like gays at Billy
[Hook by Blam]
This is sumtn' 4 urrbody get yo' hands up
On the grind, money on yo' mind get yo' grands up
If you on top getting hella guap stand up
To all you sick fiends , impalas only come with drive by's that leave you vested
No question, 2 shots will leave you breathless
If we talkin with guns, I'm
tons
Heavy load I came to tip scales
Deadly raw I came with Fish scale
Perico no this a big whale and
Its ready go bro this ship has sailed
Becky knows
ball)
And I ain't sayin' shit cause it rhyme
I got colon cancer, I'm dyin'
Yeah, yeah
Rest in peace Jam Master Jay
Tupac
And Notorious BIG
I'm
worried 'bout that
I'd rather be loved by legends with careers that really last
Than accepted by some weirdo on YouTube with a podcast
Retired, now I'm
have a gun
Or get done by the worst
Of our trumps for fun pump pump!
Flex, flex, flex flex flex, flex flex
Flex, flex flex flex, flex flex
Oh duck,
here flossin', Big Willies, we Willie Lynch 'em
Pull out the chopper, rappers hittin' the ground
Like every bar is a bullet, when I pull it, it sound
lil ruger in with the big clip
Fucking wit me then I’ll take a young nigga out like a field trip real quick
I got the sauce & the juice yea my drip is
that me and my b—
Think of me notorious, the glorious, the one
Hold the fist, the activist, the gun
ct my head like “blaow” I'm dead
The news get
lookin big whole time dis a gun print
Boii go for anything I ain't yo homie you a damn fish
Big boii got his ass robbed he thought he had a damn stick
Seen
woman and man
God bless the God, lay these Streets wall to wall
It go, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh
Yo, you got popped like a flick by that rivalry clique
It
a big sleep (yeah) hits so good
I can remember taste so bad
I can't forget
Can't remember can't forget
But I can not
Like a road machine
Machine, "Hello."
Rick Rock, "Rick Rock."
Machine, "Has a message for:"
Rick Rock, The Bay Area
Machine, "To accept the message press 1"
Ugh,
Machine Gun Funk Big Poppa
I'm steaming shrimp and lobster
No lean I'm sipping vodka
So clean Big Pimpin Patna
Rest in peace to Regis
I swipe
the dooch powder
Summer's Eve, I drop degrees chill
Come four by four, lose one like Dru Hill
Stay fly till you air sick, now that's ill
Two choices,
Come four by four, lose one like Dru Hill
Stay fly 'til you air sick, now that's ill
Two choices, either squeeze or peel, now that's real
What
wee, (la-la-la-la, lalalalalala)
Ooh wee, ooh wee, (la-la-la-la, lalalalalala)
To the bang-bang boogity, up jump the funk
When I bang big bullets, I
Get your mind right or get your body left
Create and analyze life Killuminati text
I put the ghost in machines annunaki bless
The deaf dumb and blind
(ah)
2050, nigga, y'all niggas still can't fuck with me (can't fuck with me, nigga)
This shit forever, nigga (the almighty)
Rest in peace Machine Gun
[sample]
That's a big bad motherfucka comin your way
[Intro: Shyheim (Pop Da Brown Hornet)]
One two one two one two one two
(Hey yo Shyheim
Garage foreign auto, I'm Reving up Galardo
Presidential Rollie the wrist feeling inaugural
Machine gun funk but the jazz semi auto
Leader of the new
_(cropped).jpg/217px-MGK_(48250880612)_(cropped).jpg "Machine Gun Kelly")
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