Bridge and Tunnel (Prod. Horse Head)

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Pistol

A pistol is a type of handgun. The pistol originates in the 16th century, when early handguns were produced in Europe. The English word was introduced in ca. 1570 from the Middle French pistolet (ca. 1550). The most common types of pistol are the single shot and semi-automatic. more »

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I wrote this in fort lee
It's titled bridge and tunnel
Afterwards, we might have time for a quick rebuttal
Tell the plug i'll come to you
It's not even a little trouble
Cop that kell bundy, straight home to a victory cuddle
She said careful dude, the sample's too soon
It's a think piece boo, it's not a danceable tune
I'm too high to make beats
Just ransom youtube, shoot and 48v phantom the boom
Mmmm, that modern romance
Nod and hold hands
Circle circle dot dot, backslash the whole band
No plans, hit me on the gram, pistol lohan
To misquote ghost, you goddamned right i know fans
Oh man, there's unfinished dot biz in pete's storage
A lotta ideas born on the peterson's screen porch
Some '96 bulls-shit, if drugs was a team sport
Bout as subtle as the sultan in a money green porsche
But, to quote the song, i was wrong, it never lasts
Between these expert chess masters with checkered pasts
Kick me to the curb, keep the whip, i'll catch a cab
Hella mad, hatin yellin breakin glass on bedford ave
But the truth is, the reason why i fuxed with you exclusive
Cuz nobody hated 25 fa life like you did
Alpha, beta, knew shit, run for cover, useless
Labels knew the lifestyle, no way that we'd recoup shit
But fans dont want me clean, they'd rather see me heath ledgered
They're like, how's gdp, i'd be glad to meet gethard
Told you disrespectful bootleggers
Smoke ten less newports, buy pistol's new record
Wrote this in west new york, north bergen, weehawken
Holdin hands sleepwalkin, didn't eat often
We talkin, she just likes hearing english spoken well
(I guess) i bet she still remembers how hoboken smell
Broken shell, both deserve it, sofa surfin, homeless
Poet in the asylum, thumb my nose at your whole mess
Space jailien, cold turkey, cold eggs
Read books and didn't write one rhyme the whole stretch
Came home tougher with a couple cheeky cuss words
And plans to overmedicate and underfeed these lovers
America, some slaves are luckier than others
Come see me rockin earplugs underneath these covers
Rock a dead girl's sweatshirt til her scent departed
Left me heavy hearted, eff this fuckin mess we started
Free-of-charge my accapells to large electro artists
And blow my fuckin brains out
Into this nintendo cartridge

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