Lyrics:
In a land the Spanish once had called the Northern Mystery,
Where rivers run and disappear the mustang still is free.
By the Devil's wash
We heard o' ya bitch muhfuckas poppin' shit
We murder ya! Biatch!
Run up in ya crib snack up
Ya kid then murk yo Pa
You don't know what I do to ya! Uh
gon ride its only family by my side
Step, step, step through the night
Rolex on my left
Pistol on my right
Thankful for this codeine help me make it
leaking on sight
You can run but if you do we just gone take yo homie life
Slide'n by my lonely more than safe I keep it on me
If I can get you we get yo
Pistols, AK's, AR's and rugers
That's the type of shit that'll
Run straight through ya
Pistols, choppers and revolvers
That's the type of shit
my weed and gun out
Blastin' 'til they run in the house while I got the blunt in my mouth
We in a rage bustin' rapidly like when I'm on stage
It
by the case loads
We leanin like dem Texas boys and we don't karo dat shit we ain't tryna stretch it boy and if you know me you
Know me from gettin
DTP, we got them guns that go
Yeah, I'm all about that pistol player, cold blooded killer
Niggas recognize my name, I dub the young dealer
You
You act like bro ain't told
He ain't stick to the code
Traffic keep your pistol with you
Tell you we don't need no nigga
My gang can't get no realer
the way down South (YEAH!)
I ain't Mike Jones, keep my name out'cha mouth bitch (Mike Jones)
We can get it crackin if it get to clickin clackin
Look
Whip I drive? Owned by me, wrists and neck, anti-freeze
Can it be? I'm who you dying to be'
Last of a dying breed, I'm Siamese
Twin pistol shooter
(Here are the thrill seekers)
The loose mic with two stripes, keeps moving
Like turnpikes, nothing average like the mastered assassin
We bring
column, didn't have to cook a rock
A damn goodie two-shoes, that what they call ya
Never judge a person or a book by it's covers
Just because my tone is
I like how she jiggle
I'm my own boss no man in the middle
Two hands on that ass I palm it no dribble
Shit
I cut that hoe off I'm sharp like a chisel
'em up like my hurricane
Applying pressure whenever and it's a damn shame
Chorus(X2)
We spit the superfly shit
Makin' a bitch say hey
the heat, Pistol Pete
Hail to the chief, the rest can bite bullets or just take a seat
[Verse 2]
I'm comin' on strong and you know I'm gonna take over it all
I'm a little bit different
I claim that shit
Take out the one
And I take out the two
Don't lie for that nigga
You die for that nigga
We sending some
It took a minute for this shit to happen
I'm from a place where 24/7 them pistols clappin'
I'm from a place where 24/7 my niggas trappin'
I'm from
one, yeah
'Cause you can get it right (ayy), you can get it right
Run up, catch hell, take this L, you can get it right (ayy)
Two times, hit 'em two
Stay loyal get to work and we get you a chain
So I'm locked in like a missile
In the stu yea cookin up hits surrounded by bitches and pistols
Like mighty
this shit and scare his ass
Where the drugs nigga? Where the cash?
His whole face turned white, we pistol whip it purple
Yeah, pistol whip it purple
Two
Fuck what you say, it's the gangsta shit
We the gangsta click, kickin' gangsta shit
Fuck what you say, get pistol whipped
Put your khaki's and your blue
keeps your heart on the run.
I met that cat in a two-bit juke-joint:
Took my money in a game of pool.
Next thing I knew, I was sittin' 'hind
feel your legs kid
I'm a gangsta corporate hustla, my voice is illustrious
Hounded by vicious dons, nigga we armed, trust me bruh
They yellin' Chef,
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