Lyrics:
knockis, di trigga man
Me nuh inna di chattin and
Di rappin like jigga man
Hole inna yuh face like when
Backhoe dig a land glock shot tek off
Now dem inna
at the bottom selfish and grasping for all
They'll stay by a man when he's winning and laugh in his face when he falls
My pal was an honest young puncher honest
her
Light on my head that said put her in the trunk man you can steal her
I put the hater bitch in a head lock, she flippin' out
I pop the trunk she
with a cowboy gun
His momma picks him up, he starts to run
He laughs out loud, he thinks it's a game
The alarm goes off in the liquor store
guarantee no mans protected
To each is own, grab a gun off the shelf
Cause in a warzone, the call is every man for self
Cause in a warzone, the call is
wonder who they speak for it's only one side benefiting off the street war
And he skeet galore just to make ya badder
Many gone stab they own man up like
the head, but I instead
Pull my ?dart gun? and bust sixteen until its dead
I'm the game, all of my dogs be off the chain
Yellin Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang
[Chorus]
Wha' wha', wha' wha', wha' wha', wha' wha', what
Straight off the block, gold nuts in my hand, trustin' no man
Got my Glock cocked, runnin' this
superstars mouth
Straight up and the guns come wit the money
And the work come with the luggage fuck it
These niggas talking big wit a rapper budget
I get paid
pops?"
It's a shame, he was caught up in the game and couldn't play it
So I smoked him, I asked him "who's the man" and made him say it
Three times,
be off and in a coffin' and.. uh.. follow his grave,
follow me murderous gauge, follow me murderous ways,
Steadily pumpin' as me killas kill ya, Pop
believe if God is real, he'll never judge a man
Because he knows us all and therefore he would understand
The ignorance that make a nigga take his
he fiddles're squeekin' the guitars're speakin' the piano plays a jelly-roll
The man on the drum is out from dumb and the bassman he plays from his
on
Caps goin off on the streets like popcorn
Talkin bout Simon till the early morn'
Word is bond
But now I just cool
Bumpin my Gang Starr tape by my pool
I
than, I hope you listenin
Nigga we glistenin, pop off and leave you in the dead man position
Black Child is Murder, why'all forgettin
The work I put
a pill when the hook drop
Take a sip and pop a pill when the hook drop
Dreadlock rasta, hair like pasta
Tunechi rude boy, bad man hear my shotta
What
Aint nobody know me
Now they wanna make songs with me I dont wanna be your homie
Pop off aint nobody know me
They heard me on this song now they
somebody's lickin' shots off
Security's gone, I'm trapped in the club
And I'm tryna run and get my motherfuckin' gun
(Nigga, what about your wife?) Nigga,
like to slide felt that I slipped
and the gun's only helpin' the clip
And the clip's only helpin' my hand
And like who the fuck is helpin' your man
And now Ladies & Gentlemen, Lupe Fiasco
Filet mignon with my food stamps
Car cosigned by my mama
Medical card from Obama
Background check for
and Impala's
Thugs and them ballers
Ain't nothin' safe
When them things start
Jiga jiga jiga jiga jiga
Look man, keep thinkin' we shook, man
Do 'em like we're
Yo ham, whassup, man?
Whassup, be-Down?
Ain't nothin' man, what you think 'bout all them fellas
Out there talking junk about you, man?
Oh, you
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
twisted, door knob
Talk stupid? Off with your head
Nigga, money talks, and Mr. Ed, yeah
I'm so Young Money
Got a drum on the gun, Energizer bunny
Funny
Discuss these gun pop off by beenie man Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In