Lyrics:
swallow my kids
Ay you takin’ my spot now?
12-gauge buck shot
Headshot kill shot to ya face
Ain't no way
Ain't no how
Takin’ my mother fuckin’ place
Woah
baby won’t be home for dinner
Shootin from both sides this ain’t monkey in the middle 12 gauge heavy handed bitch punch you in the temple boy you
irregular?
And if you want to get all hype, I'll have to settle ya
By pullin out my 12-gauge shotgun
And if you want to go rhyme for rhyme, I got some
Dope
potent, my purpose is spoken
Don't you hit me with that "Oh I ain't the marrying type"
Hoping that me and you can go elopin
Girl, I'll divorce ya just
that shit was a lie
I just fucked yo bitch so tell her bye bye
And you can't get her back so nigga do not try
Move around if you ain't gang gang
12 gauge
you arrested!" We said, "Go ahead!
We're having our drink anyway." We'd already finished half by this... we were 'faced!
Gets off at Jersey.... yes, you
letting you in
I guess I only speak and interrupt
But it means so much when you tell me that "I'm good enough"
You've stayed by my side and I act like
to homicide
My city's full of gangbangers and drive-by's
Why do we die at an early age?
He was so young
But still a victim of the 12 gauge
My memories
they're gonna beat my ass
Hit a quick cut, run by the Ave.
Go to the Valley you know I gotta laugh
Jogged to the third floor runnin' the dope spot
on the run and I better run fast
'cause if I don't they're gonna beat my ass
Hit a quick cut, run by the Ave.
Go to the Valley you know I gotta laugh
Jogged
this bitch
Aye Goodlook you know what’s going on man
BayCheez
We go turn this up that bag way
Yeeeeeeeaaaaa
BIKELYFE spot a busa on dey radar
Got you right in my sight
Got me blind
Girl fall in line
Got a V12 number 9
Why should you get my mind
That's what it was on these drugs
Smoke my
forty-four-four-four, hips forty five I go hold am tight)
This your ike (okay)
This your bumper
Give me your number
Anything wey you want girl (that's what I want)
Look
on you with that 12-gauge ultimatum
Like give it up, all that shit
Yeah, give it up
They call me Dr. Greenthumb
Because I got the Midas touch
Roll
I'm moving go to LA
I can't fuck with 12 grade
Did it on my own I'm self made
Blow my brains with a 12 gauge
Lately feeling like this love ain't real
I
Wit a 12 gauge pump in da trunk and a clip full of funk and a fat purple cush blunt/
So call it what you want/
I call it da fever of da FUNK HOUSE
6ixteen-12-Church boy ft Riddick
[pre hook: 6ixteen_12]
Err'where I go, I just gotta let em know
Boy I love my God ,I just gotta let it show
bangers and drive bys
Why do we die at an early age
He was so young but still a
Victim of the 12 gauge
My memories of a corpse
Mind full of sick thoughts
You got a V12? I got 12 V's
Do girl, what you do girl?
Got a few more bottles of champagne
For you girl, so drink freely
And if it's true girl that
Or paint the walls too
Thank you for that 12 by 12 painting, girl
Thank you for that 12 by 12 painting, girl
Thank you for that 12 by 12 painting, girl
12 gauge shotty, with a pump like Joe Dumar's
Shells the size of Sprewell lugs, go through cars
Rip apart your new Bentley nigga, like Dre sent me
upon a time there was a boy name joe
Decent and polite, would you believe is a show
Imagine our surprise 12 o clock one night big fight
Dem catch Joe
smoking
Louder than a car alarm
Just a bunch of drug users
In my call log
I was thinking about the team
I don't ball hog
Hit you with this 12 gauge
But
believe
So I grabbed the stupid bitch by her nappy-ass weave
She started talkin' shit, wouldn't you know?
Reached back like a pimp and slapped the ho
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