Lyrics:
waiting for the day when Clinton legalize weed
[Dom PaChino a.k.a. P.R. Terrorist]
It's like gun play when my darts spray
Leave you scarred today,
quick
[NuChild]
Now when you wake up
I'm wiping the cold out your eys with the barrel of the gun
Holding your son, smoking Branson
Blowing smoke in your
You think you got it
But I'm seein that you new to this
An yall be blinded by the game
While I'm chewin bitch
Don't be surprised what's in my veins
but them niggaz on wait
Tey get beat like hussein by tis gangbang track
Young hustler, geyda pusher, leg crusher
Nigga make way for this
I been balling hard James Harden Since I Was 13
They wasn’t there when a young’n had a hoop dream
I turnt my dreams to my reality
We was only down by
Produced by ED Track
Eh sur un coup d'vent
13
Hmmm
Eh
Sur un coup d'vent
Mes amis j'les perds sur un coup d'vent
Mon argent j'le perds du moins tout
Yo, N-Tyce got, a lot, heat packin' out
I don't care what you rappin' bout
I don't care what your gun clappin' but, blackin' out
How the roses is
Yo, there's a fire in the kitchen, it's like nine cooks
The Kool-Aid got spiked with porcupines, look
Rode into Rigo, this ain't a fast track
Your
to ban me from eatin pussy all night
W-W-F'n bitches
Slammin em in the rope like Shawn Mike
I can't be touched bitch, I disco in kryptonite
Shit I'm broke
n they try and fuck it
Niggas see a bad bitch ask her if she suck dick
Straight to the point i aint never try n front shit
Nigga tryna akt tough when
the time
Whole time it's me I killed
And my trigga fingaz itchin
Got that glizzy in the mixin n
Strum the trigga it get wicked
How you hold that gun that
carry gun
Stacking up bodies my tally on
They do panick hmm mehn dem don start to run
I no be n’a una average joe
Been doing this time ago
Any man i fit
the D!?!
[Chorus - Royce Da 5'9"]
All you gotta do is say my name,
I make the gun sang, sang
like Aooooooooh,
You don't want,
I have you niggas,
Those in charge are too heartless
I cannot find a true artist
Who ain't afraid to breathe life on a track
I feel like D-Rose when he dropped fifty
JC3
alone
Who they really trippin on tho
I been beating these tracks like a bongo
God flexing in the front row
Welcome to the gun show
If your not here then
war
All these choppers in the crib
Look like a gun store
And the rose gold look like
Duck sauce in the Maybach
With a young broad why the fuck
Would I
on my Patek
Took them cuffs off totin' automatics
This the shit we get a rush for
All this rose gold look like duck sauce
In the Maybach with a young
make it hurt real good (hurt real good)
She can make it last all night (last all night)
Hold that ass real tight
And I know this girl
She'd bust a gun
Pamiętam kiedy byłem małym chłopcem
Po lekcjach odpalałem Guns n’ roses
Byłem Slash-em albo Axl-em Rose-m
Skacząc po kanapie w wyobraźni grałem
down to hell then
Rose Mary to for the father for by the son third for the holy day, spirit
Spoke some game to we people that's the Lord's way
Became one
delicate phrasing of whimsical
Such mythical struggles by people who're mental
At best they're in retail, at worst they're a crack deal
So crack down
joking
If I'm N9ne I keep that pistol smoking
By design to find your prime time if their eyes open
Sign of the times ain't dependent on the rhymes
a splurge on my kind
Sippin' on a fifth of Rose wine
Yeah, the Flesh-N-, the Flesh-N-muthafuckin' Bone
Gettin' my tipsy on strong, always stay packin' that
bye had enough of that
Rushed a drive by roughed up the track
Crushed it no lie left out the back
I could spit it ill like I'm feeling sick
Talk about
.jpg/300px-GNR_London_Stadium_2017_3_(cropped).jpg "Guns N' Roses")
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