Lyrics:
of this ends
She has to wear a bulletproof vest
So she doesn't get shot in the chest
If he can shoot from point-blank range
Aiming for the head is not
We having a smoke out in the Dungeon with the Mary Jane
It's just a pimps(players), Mack daddies(East Point)
It's all about that see's in yo
your automatic
(Boo-yaa!) Spitting out buckshots
Homey say bloodclat, so you can call a pig
'Cause no one could handle, I wind up, and loco
Insane in
and Countretto up in the heat man
With these drums I let my top make the beat man
Shoot my bang bang leave em dead in the streets man
Hollow points fly out of my
bring on horror like Tales From the Crypt
And we ain't hard to find is the tales that we kick
I'm fully automatic full of static and shit
Movin'
shots
We use to shoot hoops nigga now we shoot up blocks
Got them shells with them green tips just for y'all
You can run but they coming through them
I said the first thing
She said the first thing in her mind
There's nothing here to see
There's nothing here to see
I point the arrow
She shoots
your automatic
(Boo-yaa!) Spitting out buckshots
Homey say bloodclat, so you can call a pig
'Cause no one could handle, I wind up, and loco
Insane in
the gall
To write your name up on the girl's room wall
And send you out to Maria who spoke of babies and all
And wanted to shoot your joy
It's a hard
not drop a penny (I bet' not drop a penny)
Widebody 'Cat sittin' up on Rucci's, look like Renni (Renni)
Finna go shoot to L.A. And see my new ho, she
and PAC
I'm come to your city and shoot up ya spot
I'll keep it 250 you'll sleep in a box
Your shitty no pity don't speak to me, Stop!
You're useless
Wildin', fools started locn up
Gats cracked
The room started smokin' up
Me and "E" hit the floor
And then the back door
My boys let off an automatic encore
a fan first
I reverse another trick verse
To the point
Where I can rock dis funky joint
In the brain game, I'm keepin' my head clear
In 33 years so
Eargasmatic, from Distortion to Statics
Automatic, systematic
I'm nasty at it
So hand me the five micraphones like they did Illmatic
One time for
Shoot the fool
Everyone's got their melting point
And this world helps you find yours
Guilty pleasures everywhere
Games of chance and even whores
This
don't shoot and my crew don't slang
We just hang tryin to get up in this rap game
So I can gain so fame and build my crews name
Rollin with juvenile
twerkin' ammo
Yeah, I got revolver and automatic, uh
Or I use your bitch for target practice
Yeah, girl, my dick is a concealed weapon
I'ma kill that pussy
flashed cause your Dayton don't spin
Hands up, 'fore they take one out again
Hey now, don't shoot hands up, don't shoot
Too drunk, don't shoot headshot,
Pull up wit the Henny and a semi automatic
If I see snakes
I shoot em off
If I see snakes
I shoot em off
Haters gon be many but the real are few
bring on horror like Tales From the Crypt
And we ain't hard to find is the tales that we kick
I'm fully automatic full of static and shit
Movin'
When I roll the dice, you'll see, I get double that
Every time I shoot, I'm like DeRozan, it goes in
Thought I took a shit on you, but girl, you were
the pistol shoot 'em point blank boy
Chump change boy, now you gotta hate boy
Pull up the with the motherfucking AK boy
Pull up like it's motherfucking game
sins, son, and walk ye straight
Stop talkin' all that trash, boy, and talk ye straight
Afflicted by the pressures of life at every vital point
Still, I
sins, son, and walk ye straight
Stop talkin' all that trash, boy, and talk ye straight
Afflicted by the pressures of life at every vital point
Still, I
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