Lyrics:
Pistol and poverty, come get to know us
(Get Top on the phone)
Who doing the drums?
Man put that nigga on the drums man
Yep all day, mortal man
Two thirty baby, won't you meet me by The Bean?
Too early, maybe later you can show me things
You know what it is, whenever I visit
Windy city,
best room
That fire place got chest room
Two guests, indian or you gotta be arabic
That hour glass look mighty round
Is it real or did you inherit it
phones, and I'm ruthless
Two cups on, and I'm vicious
In the war zone with the hittas
I was goin' in the house with the vision
I done came back out with
tonight
Get your pistols (Go... Go)
Launch your missile (Go... Go)
Settle your issues (Go... Go)
I got a feeling somebody's gonna die tonight
Verse 2
D's on the Chevy what cream do
Front line nigga, still I was team two
Always ready for whatever when it came to it
Young nigga took an L and he chose
Now the taste of alcohol is filling up my bladder
What's the date and time it don't matter
Had a pocket full of phone numbers I was trying
Now the taste of alcohol is filling up my bladder
What's the date and time it don't matter
Had a pocket full of phone numbers I was trying
door
Now we runnin' out the back door
Droppin' pistols it's the life of that bando
Man fuck, my mama hit my phone
Player in my home
They won't leave me
All day long just callin' my phone (phone)
You and your friends wanna tag along
2 A.M. I was all alone (alone)
Lamborghini truck in the and the sade
punk, slack up.
Watch your weak posse before they get smacked up.
One by one, two by two, three by, Yo P
[Parrish]
What's Up E.D.?
Pass
were only two words that I had to say
P-A-Y, B-A-C-K
The car's loaded with a silence that could rape the dead
Pistols clipped as the chamber's loaded
way too many commas
Mona Lisa in the hall, three safes in the wall
Two iPhones, hundred killers on call
Eight car garage, ten grand for
Still keep the pistol and never switched over
Yellow boogers in the watch like
I pissed on 'em nuts hanging cause a young
Nigga been swinging
Bet my
There's an intruder in my house
He cut my phone line, can't dial out (shit)
I scream for police, but I doubt
They're gonna hear me when I shout
Unlimited pistols but that shotgun cheap and cheerful
My hitters tryna do it like Beanie Sigel
Get down or lay it down (bah, bah)
Get down or lay it down,
Is there a heaven for a baller?
Pistol to my head, every time I call her
Pistol to my head, they wonder if I'm Hellbound
Can't be worse than this,
don't stop"
*repeat x2*
"Now I'm gonna show you how the East Coast rocks"
"??? are jumpin out of shoes and socks"
Verse One: Dray, Books
Higgity-hey
These real diamonds n my
Chain I faking nothin
Say nigga fuck you n that
Pistol you ain't takin nothing (yea)
Im out that Chippewa thats right
There by
When you're all alone
Sunday morning
A pistol by the phone
The chance is just as fat
As a union bureaucrat
That the life you wanna live
Ain't the one
of them sirens I dont buzz
Pick a cop that bugs me amateurs
[Chorus]
[Skit]
Oh man I'm out of gas
Let me stop by this house and see if anyboody in there
D's on the Chevy what cream do
Front line nigga, still I was team two
Always ready for whatever when it came to it
Young nigga took an L and he chose
D's on the Chevy what cream do
Front line nigga, still I was team two
Always ready for whatever when it came to it
Young nigga took an L and he chose
This ain't livin'..
[2Pac]
N**** - I hear even the smaller G's be dippin' Chevy Impalas
while flossin' they gold D's, O.G.'s, is who they follow
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