Pistol Poppin'

Eminem, DJ Kay Slay, Ca$his  Buy

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DJ Kay Slay

Keith Grayson (born August 14, 1966), professionally known as DJ Kay Slay, is an American hip hop disc jockey (DJ) from New York City. He was referred to by The New York Times as "Hip Hop's One-Man Ministry of Insults". Kay Slay goes by several monikers, namely The Drama King, Dezzy Dez and Slap Your Favorite DJ. He has released four studio albums, The Streetsweeper, Vol. 1, The Streetsweeper, Vol. 2, The Champions: North Meets South (with Greg Street) and More Than Just a DJ. more »


Year:
2007
108 Views

 Watch: New Singing Lesson Videos Can Make Anyone A Great Singer

Haha
Ca$his, Ca$his
Yeah!
King Mathers
C'mon!
Pistol poppin, come get me nigga! (echoes)

Pistol poppin, bodies droppin, layin all around
You thought it was a game, now the neighbors callin out
The police find that, what's that sound?
While you layin on the ground with your fuckin brain out

Walk through the door with my hands on a gun
Cause niggaz 'round here wanna ask where I'm from
I throw up my signs, step back and pop one
'fore you throw up your sign if you even got one
I used to bust niggaz heads open for fun
Chase him down, stomp him out, if he tried to run
I could flip packs, get stacks, big straps, where it at?
Slung crack, real cat, you ain't never did that
Go hard, no peace, I gotta keep, chrome heat
I don't sleep, homie I'm watched by the police
Cops out patrolling, grab a glock-40
Sniper at the squad car, story noting
F*ck it if you want beef, click-clack, wack rap
Tossed straps before, I'm out of here, homie
Militant in a sense, I don't really give a shit
Call up, Eminem, I gotta plead innocent

Pistol poppin, bodies droppin, layin all around
You thought it was a game, now the neighbors callin out
The police find that, what's that sound?
While you layin on the ground with your fuckin brain out

Sixteenth in my sneakers, I ain't listen to my teachers
I'm the most hated nigga alive, since Jesus
Maybe in the afterlife they'll reveal my Christ-like abilities
Come back, then ride on my enemies
Never been afraid of beef, metals of my bravery
War situations got you sayin he, crazy G
And emerge with the beat, I can serve anything
Especially anybody tryin to diss my team Shady
[blam] G-Unit, Aftermath the same thing
So if you say them punk nigga you say me
I be in L.A. G, get at me when you see me
Catch you in O.C., and in the bag you'll be leaving
I ain't worried 'bout my freedom cause for me to get even
Is worth e'rything, it's on B.B.G.N.
I son'd you folk, I'm lookin at your pinkie
You a fake-ass gangsta, what a waste of my scenery

Pistol poppin, bodies droppin, layin all around
You thought it was a game, now the neighbors callin out
The police find that, what's that sound?
While you layin on the ground with your fuckin brain out

Pistol poppin, bodies droppin, layin all around
You thought it was a game, now the neighbors callin out
The police find that, what's that sound?
While you layin on the ground with your fuckin brain out

Maybe I just feel like there's too many pussies in rap
Shady (Ca$his) we gotta push 'em to the back
Move 'em along, push 'em aside, don't get me wrong
I love the finger snaps and the claps into the song
It's got a catch but come on man, the raps
We all gotta step our game up; especially these lame fucks
Who walk around with their chest out
Just tryin to be down with anybody who's left now
Better be down with them, huh
But I dare some bitch to say somethin about, Eminem
Cause I'm not in the mood to be playin around with dudes
I already seen two friends get shot in the head
And lay on the ground this year and, one didn't make it
Proof, you are the truth
Please don't let us come face to face with these boo-boo-hoo
Fake-ass tattooed havin
Fif' please tell 'em right now how hard it has been
For me to try and, stay out it
But they just won't quit runnin their mouth
At least 'til there's a gun in it; son of a bitch!
We all got shooters, yeah these days who doesn't?
And as far as the snaps and claps, I wasn't
Dissin the South, that isn't what this is about
I just so sick of the beef, I don't even wanna see anymore

Pistol poppin, bodies droppin, layin all around
You thought it was a game, now the neighbors callin out
The police find that, what's that sound?
While you layin on the ground with your fuckin brain out

Pistol poppin, bodies droppin, layin all around
You thought it was a game, now the neighbors callin out
The police find that, what's that sound?
While you layin on the ground with your fuckin brain out

 Watch: New Singing Lesson Videos Can Make Anyone A Great Singer

Written by: JEFFREY IRWIN BASS, LUIS EDGARDO RESTO, MARSHALL B. III MATHERS, RAMONE JOHNSON

Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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Pistol Poppin'

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