Bang - Bang - Lyrics - Cher

Title: Bang - Bang
Artist: Cher
Composer(s): Salvatore Bono

Lyric:
Bang bang, you shot me down
Bang bang, I hit the ground
Bang bang that awful sound
Bang bang, my baby shot me down

I was five and you were six
We rode on horses made of sticks
I wore black, you wore white
You would always win the fight

Bang bang, you shot me down
Bang bang, I hit the ground
Bang bang that awful sound
Bang bang, my baby shot me down

Seasons came and changed the time
I grew up, I called you mine
You would always laugh and say
"Remember when we used to play"

Bang bang, you shot me down
Bang bang, and I hit the ground
Bang bang that awful sound
Bang bang, my baby shot me down

Music played and people sang
Just for me the Church bells rang
After echoes from a gun
We both vowed that we'd be one

Bang bang
Bang bang
Bang bang

Now when you're gone I don't know why
Sometimes I cry
You didn't say, "Goodbye"
Didn't take the time to lie

Bang bang, you shot me down
Bang bang and I hit the ground
Bang bang that awful sound
Bang bang, baby my baby shot me down

Bang bang
...

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Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down) - Lyrics - How Does That Grab You? - Nancy Sinatra

Title: Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)
Album: How Does That Grab You?
Artist: Nancy Sinatra
Composer(s): Salvatore Bono

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Lyric:
I was five and he was six
We rode on horses made of sticks
He wore black and I wore white
He would always win the fight

Bang bang, he shot me down
Bang bang, I hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, my baby shot me down

Seasons came and changed the time
When I grew up I called him mine
He would always laugh and say
Remember when we used to play

Bang bang, I shot you down
Bang bang, you hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, I used to shoot you down

Music played and people sang
Just for me the church bells rang

Now he's gone I don't know why
Until this day, sometimes I cry
He didn't even say goodbye
He didn't take the time to lie

Bang bang, he shot me down
Bang bang, I hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, my baby shot me down

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7cccb61e0c67024574aaf68efb38e1c3

Bust A Shot - Lyrics - Love Is Wicked - Brick & Lace

Title: Bust A Shot
Album: Love Is Wicked
Artist: Brick & Lace
Composer(s): William Adams, Calvin Broadus, Ronald Fair, Nyanda Janell Thorbourne, Nailiah Thornbourne, Jesse Bonds Jr Weaver, Colin Fitzroy Wolfe, Andre Romell Young

Lyric:
Me bust a shot for my lover
Me bust a shot for my lover
Me bust a shot for my lover
Me bust a shot for my lover

Me bust a shot for my lover
Me bust a shot for my lover
Me bust a shot for my lover
Me bust a shot for my lover

Bang! Pridi, didi, didi, ding, ding!
Oh, my love?s locked up in sing, sing!
No, baby, I won?t change a ting
I?ll still wear your ring I?m your queen

Still hold you down, right here till infinity
Me and you connect and create this trinity
I?ll love you till eternity, I swear, I swear

Me bust a shot for my lover
Me bust a shot for my lover
Me bust a shot for my lover
Me bust a shot for my lover

Me bust a shot for my lover
Me bust a shot for my lover
Me bust a shot for my lover
Me bust a shot for my lover

Baby, you don?t gotta worry
I draw that line in a hurry
'Cause boy, you know that
You?re the star in my love story
And this is your territory

You ain?t gotta worry about them
'Cause I ain?t even checkin? about them
Baby, don?t you worry about them
Nobody gonna take your position

Me bust a shot for my lover
Me bust a shot for my lover
Me bust a shot for my lover
Me bust a shot for my lover

Me bust a shot for my lover
Me bust a shot for my lover
Me bust a shot for my lover
Me bust a shot for my lover

And even if you see me tour around the world
I?m a big celebrity, always keep the levity
Always I gonna be your pearl
Straight from the ocean never haffi question

My love
My love
My love
My love

Bust a shot for my lover
Me bust a shot for my lover
Me bust a shot for my lover
Bust a shot for my love

And I ain?t even gonna leave you
And I ain?t even going nowhere
So I bust a shot

You ain?t got to worry about them
You ain?t got to worry about them
You ain?t got to worry about them
You ain?t got to worry about them

You ain?t got to worry about them
You ain?t got to worry about them
You ain?t got to worry about them
You ain?t got to worry about them

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Run With My Chopper - Lyrics - B.G.

Title: Run With My Chopper
Artist: B.G.
Composer(s): Christopher Dorsey, Byron Thomas

Lyric:
You know 'bout me and my chopper, nigga
Watch this

Nigga, I'm dressed in my T, Girbauds and Reebok's
Gotta settle beef for a nigga shot up my block
Get my clique, load them things up in the van
Don't matter they in front the law we gon' blast

We creepin', sweepin' to catch these niggas slippin'
Every hood we think they be in we dippin'
Even through people, all through people yard
Believe me tonight they goin' to [unverified]

We ridin' all night, finally got lucky
We saw 'em chillin' back, turned on the block hustlin'
Hit the lights, park, jumped out, walked
Crept down on 'em, let them AK's bark

One of them niggas broke out, I broke out behind him
Went down the alley, went under the house, I went behind him
Caught him, then I chopped him up
In the process my Reebok's got fucked up

I'm runnin' with my chopper
I'm 'bout to set it off with my chopper
Knock a head off with my chopper
And bang at the law with my chopper

Look, I'm runnin' with my chopper
I'm 'bout to set it off with my chopper
Knock a head off with my chopper
Then bang at the law with my chopper

Evenin' got dark you know it's 'bout to be some G shit
Twelve o'clock done hit it's midnight madness
Sun down, moon out you know them snakes comin'
Guerrillas on they way with them hundred-round drumming

Better get to runnin' I'm killin' by the dozen
Bitch, you're up you get eternal bleedin' from the stomach
I'm buckin', I'm bustin', I'm bringin' trouble on your block
I ain't fearin' nothin' you're in front me, you get chopped

I'm hot, dog keep that glock and it's cocked, dog
First time you're caught off your game, you drop, dog
I'm true to the game ho, play for keeps
Pull up with the passenger drivin' way in the back seat

I don't give a fuck, never did, been real
Since I was young been seein' cats get killed
When it get dark better be able to run quick
'Cause after that, that chopper gonna talk shit

I'm runnin' with my chopper
I'm 'bout to set it off with my chopper
Knock a head off with my chopper
Bang at the law with my chopper

Look, I'm runnin' with my chopper
I'm 'bout to set it off with my chopper
Knock a head off with my chopper
Then bang at the law with my chopper

If you don't know, I'm the B.G., all about beefin'
Catch ya bobbin' your head at the D.J. and leave you leakin'
I'm on a buck, fuck on the up, then squeeze it
[Unverified], nigga look, L.T. family grievin'

I'm on a mission to leave they family grievin'
Cut my dog life short, now I gotta teach 'em
I'ma [unverified] and send work to [unverified]
Keep niggas bust up goin' through his morgue

I'ma fool baby handed me my first tool
Told me if I feel played do what I gotta do
Nowadays I don't play with that K in my hand
You don't know from last album, I'ma made man

Uptown where I'm from V.L. my stumpin' ground
Get outta line, I empty a drum at ya, clown
I'm a dog, dog I'm tellin' ya I'm raw, dog
Like Pac, ya ain't in my clique, fuck all y'all

I'm runnin' with my chopper
I'm 'bout to set it off with my chopper
Knock a head off with my chopper
Bang at the law with my chopper

Look, I'm runnin' with my chopper
(Look)
I'm 'bout to set it off with my chopper
Knock a head off with my chopper
And bang at the law with my chopper

Runnin' with my chopper
(Runnin' with my chopper)
I'm 'bout to set it off with my chopper
(Set it off with my chopper)
Knock a head off with my chopper
(Knock a head off with my chopper)
Bang at the law with my chopper
(Bang at the law with my chopper)

I'm runnin' with my chopper
(Runnin' with my chopper)
I'm 'bout to set it off with my chopper
(Set it off with my chopper)
Knock a head off with my chopper
(Knock a head off)
Bang at the law with my chopper
(Bang, bang at the law, nigga, huh?)

Oh, nigga, what you know 'bout that chopper?
Fuck, ya heard checkmate with that chopper
Nigga, checkmate with that chopper

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43db88a48641f25248e2c105bd16eec7

Mo' Murda - Lyrics - E. 1999 Eternal - Bone Thugs N Harmony

Title: Mo' Murda
Album: E. 1999 Eternal
Artist: Bone Thugs N Harmony
Composer(s): Tony-C Bone D J U-Nee

Lyric:
Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again
Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again

Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again
Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again

Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again
Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again

Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again
Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again

Dear Mr.Ouija, let 'em know who the boss is
So nigga you wanna get tossed in the river?
Nigga, put 'em in the mud, see them pump blood, nigga, no love
Me show 'em the Bone when I grab that chrome
Gotta haunt that dome

Folla me, roll, stroll down East 1999
Gotta find these row hoes
Nigga, if you woke up and all of a sudden
Nigga, you was off inna my hood?

I'm a real thuggish nigga
So a, I would have to kill ya so die
Popped off to the coffin
Pick up my pump dump chumps in the gutter pain

Nigga got ta fucked up bang
Taking no shorts so fuck ya man
Claim my thang to slang them bloody bodies
Kill 'em all, send them hoes up in flames
Krayzie insane to the brain

Hey, we slay niggas who think we play
Nigga, me deadly wid the gun
Machete be dipped in rum
Running wid the gun, steady bucking
Leaving them bodies dumped off in the alley for dead

I'm near, kill 'em all, mo' murda, mo' murda
That's what Ouija said
Gotta put one in ya head, bang
We coming to serve ya,
Mo' murda, mo' murda, mo' murda
Mo' murda, mo' murda, mo' murda

Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again
Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again

Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again
Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again

Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again
Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again

Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again
Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again

Will I die of murda, bloody mo' murda?
Living in the Land of the Heartless, coming up daily
Until a me murda them all, I'm never gon' fall
So I'ma murda them baby
Get 'em up wid me thugs
See 'em on the corner and they slanging them drugs

Giving up shots out to the glock, glock
Eighty eight to the ten five
Them killas be pumping them slugs
Niggas be fiending me daily
Me silence me twelve gauge eruption
And I'm on a road to destruction

And steady be busting and bodies be busting me
Killa with a buckshot, I'ma peel ya
Number one assassin's still the realer nigga
Down for my crime, niggas be down
Trying to stay to tha grind

Niggas is going insane, taking a shot to the brain
And man, so call it a shame
But what be the thang up offa this murda game?
And I'm feeling not a bit remorseful
My twelve gauge just so forceful

So playa, hate when I'm in ya town
The nigga, me bucking 'em down
And I'm giving up peace to the hustlas
Thugstas and twelve gauge pumpstas

Drug 'em in gutters mo' murda, me style, now
Put 'em on the ground, lay down
Nigga check my thang the way that we swang
When I'm coming to serve ya
Wid the nine cocked and it's ready to pop
Letting off shots, Layzie, be screaming
?Mo' murda, mo' murda?

Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again
Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again

Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again
Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again

Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again
Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again

Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again
Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again

Gotta kill, get 'em nowhere to run
Can't get away from my shotgun
Leaving them bodies fucked up
Pump, pump to the ground, better leave it alone
Nigga wanna die when fucking wid
Mo Thug, nigga, we killed this bitch

Now you wanna catch some bang bang
Nigga wanna die when I let my nuts hang
What is it in me makes me feel
Like I gots ta murda ya?
You slip when I'm high
Pulling my trigger and nigga, you die, soldier

Four killas we creeping and coming to hurt ya, mo' murda
Better pack that five five
I'm feeling like killing, you dying tonight
You don't wanna hear that glock pop
When the glock pop pop, don't stop

We all about murda mo'
Finger on the trigger, Mo Thug let go
We straight from Cleveland
Clack back nigga ya bleeding
You don't wanna fuck wid Bone
Pulling that chrome now, nigga, ya gone

If you wanna die, bye
See you in the gutter, let Mama cry
Watch Mo Thug Killas pump pump
Put 'em in the ground with his head blown, gone
Mo' murda, mo' murda, mo' murda

Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again
Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again

Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again
Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again

Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again
Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again

Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again
Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again

Eternally thugstas die, will I die of murda now?
East 99, follow me grind
And all descending that body underground, way down
Me ride and everyone dies
And I rolling wid my killas
And all, ah my thuggish ruggish niggas, no lie

Drugging up bloody, mo' victims, get 'em, get 'em
That'll be little Ripsta, sinister
Kill y'all, put 'em in the river
Bodies shiver, fuck that nigga

Hit 'em up inside, minds be blowing, I'm dumping
Remember me spray 'em, slay 'em, gauge 'em, laying 'em
All up off inna the coffin, ready to fade 'em,
To buck or to shoot wid the twelve gauge eruptions
Creep out your seat, would ya we come to stay?
Found out none of my niggas was bluffing

For the love of the murda, man, the murda game
The same but a bang bang bang
Can't resist to bump you, now pow, run 'em all off
St Clair stays, down for the murda mo'
Oh, no, ho when a thugsta, stroll

Forty fours still pointed at the po-pos
Stop 'em, drop 'em, numb those 'til out cold, they froze
You know, nigga, we can't be bluffing
We bang insane, when I put one to your temple
Mo' murda then blow out ya brain

Mo' murda, mo' murda
Come, come again

Come bloody murda
Come bloody murda
Come bloody murda
...

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3fa15b2552709f6450d608d941ab8e7b

Trouble With The Sweet Stuff - Lyrics - Charmed Life - Billy Idol

Title: Trouble With The Sweet Stuff
Album: Charmed Life
Artist: Billy Idol
Composer(s): Mark Younger-Smith, Keith Forsey, Williams Broad, Anthony David Concors

Lyric:
Wanna give it up, gotta give it up
Can't give it up

Oh, mama, oh, oh
The money's run out
And I'm a hungry man
Oh, mama, ooh
You see, I, I'm a hurtin' man

I was just a boy when they told me
God loves ya, you're insane
Here I am, pistol in my hand
Judge and jury, one the same

I got, trouble with the sweet stuff, oh yeah
I got, trouble with the sweet stuff, oh yeah
And I'm never ever gonna shake it, shake it
Trouble with the sweet stuff
Trouble with the sweet stuff

Ooh, bang bang, they shot me down
Caught me robbin' the bank again
Say I'm crazy, I'm a desperate man
Not right

Daddy's in the junk shop alley babe
Tryin' to some that stuff
I said I can't believe it

I got, trouble with the sweet stuff, oh yeah
I got, trouble with the sweet stuff, oh yeah
And I'm never ever gonna shake it, shake it

Don't wanna give it up
Don't wanna give it up, yeah
Shake it, gotta give it up
Don't wanna give it up
Don't wanna give it up

Trouble with the sweet stuff, oh yeah
Mommy's in the graveyard
Pushed her oh so long
Baby ain't cryin'
Cradles cold, long gone

And me mama, mama
Yes, when the situation breaks down
You've got trouble, trouble

Bang bang, shot me down
Caught me robbin' the bank again
I ain't crazy, baby, oh yeah
I'm a desperate man

Daddy's in the junk shop alley babe
Tryin' to some that stuff and me
Never gonna shake it, baby, yeah

Trouble with the sweet stuff, oh yeah
I got trouble with the sweet stuff, oh yeah
Trouble with the sweet stuff, baby
And I'm never, never, never, never, ever
Gonna shake it

I want trouble with the sweet stuff, yeah
Believe me, baby
Can't give it up, come on and shake it

Daddy's in the junk shop alley babe
Tryin' to smoke that stuff, oh yeah
Yeah, gonna shake it
Can't give it up, can't give it up

Do you feel pain
The same way I feel pain, babe
Breathe the same air
I gotta give it up, wanna give it up
Can't give it up, gotta give it up

Give it up
Give it up
Give it up
...

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c864e916abe38264cea81cc306912487

Cocaina, - Lyrics - The Big Bang - Busta Rhymes

Title: Cocaina,
Album: The Big Bang
Artist: Busta Rhymes
Composer(s): Mark Batson, Marsha Ambrosius, Michael Elizondo, Trevor Smith, Andre Young, Che Pope

Lyric:
Ai ya ya yio
Busta Rhymes, ya gotsa be the sure shot
Flipmode, ya gotsa be the sure shot
Aftermath, ya gotsa be the sure shot
My live niggaz y'know, who be the sure shot?
Live bitches y'know, who be the sure shot? Shit

I'm back in ya soul just like a minister
I'm big like a movie, I'm on the screen and at the cinema
While I'm in the process of slowly gettin' rid of ya
I'm back over bitches and then I throw 'em in my videa

Yeah, yeah, the God of the block
Y'know me killa had you spreadin' the spot wet
'Twist It' like Olivia, oh shit, flow so sick in the committee
We know you a slouch duke, we don't even consider ya

Boss nigga, see or hear me in ya area
The more niggaz, the murders
The more the money, the more the merrier
Smash shit 'til everything become mass hysteria
Hungry for street shit, see I be takin' care of ya check nigga

Fuck all the talk, homey I'm daring ya
The lead from the shot'll poision ya blood like malaria
Made back and sell it over exotic
Worm skin interior, my swagger to my bitch
The more money, it's all superior

When we in the spot y'know that we sure to shine
It's all so holy and so divine
Analyze niggaz 'til we can read ya mind
Sometimes a real live nigga is hard to find

We like, drugs overdose niggaz every time
(Cocaina baby, cocaina baby)
(Cocaina baby, cocaina baby)
We like, drugs overdose niggaz every time
(Cocaina baby)

Yo, I'm tired of tellin' ya
Back on my bullshit, fuckin' put a shell in ya
Gangster niggaz respect it, salute me on the regular
When it comes to the street shit, define me as the emperor

Check it, my nigga, most of you muhfuckers amateur
I muster the nigga quick and damage any challenger
But now y'know, oh, a nigga flow so spectacular
Break niggaz down and handle you muhfuckin' characters

Captain of this shit but most of you niggaz is passengers
I'm takin' it back to the hood, like '87 Maximas
Yeah, yeah, y'know who the truth? No need for askin' the
Same question again to get the same answer bruh

Fasten ya seatbelt, bitches fuck wit the bachelor
Wit' money like a thousand coke deals from here to Panama
Strike like a brightness, a light I'm here to dazzle ya
Whole hood from the boroughs to the niggaz up in Attica

Soldiers in the streets, the Middle East way down to Canada
When it comes to the block, y'know I'm the ambassador
Follow nobody's footsteps but said it like a scavenger
Wanna talk money, bitch? Then holla at my manager

The way y'all niggaz is trash, my crew'll get to blasting ya
Twelve shot clip, hollow tips, quick to plaster ya
All over the cement, spread ya like I'm mashing
[Incomprehensible] Bus-a-Bus date but check ya fuckin' calendar

When we in the spot y'know that we sure to shine
It's all so holy and so divine
Analyze niggaz 'til we can read ya mind
Sometimes a real live nigga is hard to find

We like, drugs overdose niggaz every time
(Cocaina baby, cocaina baby)
(Cocaina baby, cocaina baby)
We like drugs overdose niggaz every time

Take me all the way to where you are
I really want to mate, take me now
(Cocaina baby, cocaina baby)
Take us far away to the sky
I really want to mate, sometime
(Cocaina baby, cocaina baby)

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96bdabce8beb2aa4b8e5cf798d12cbac

Cant C Me - Lyrics - All Eyez On Me - 2pac

Title: Cant C Me
Album: All Eyez On Me
Artist: 2pac
Composer(s): Andre Romell Young, George Jr Clinton, Tupac Shakur

Lyric:
The blind stares of a million pairs of eyes lookin' hard
But won't realize that they will never see the P
You must be goin' blind

Give me my money in stacks and lace my bitches with 9 figures
Real niggas fingers on nickle plated 9 triggas
Must see my enemies defeated
I'll catch 'em while they coked up and weeded

Open fire, noww them niggas bleedin'
See me in flesh and test and get your chest blown
Straight out tha west, don't get blown
My adversaries cry like ho's, open and shut like doors
Is you a friend or foe? Nigga you ain't know?

They got me stressed out on Death Row
I've seen money but, baby, I gots to gets mo'
You scream and go, 2Pac and I ain't stoppin' till I'm well paid
Bail's, paid now nigga, look what hell made

Visions of cops and sirens, niggas open fire
Buncha thug life niggas on tha rise until I die
Ask me why I'm a boss playa gettin' high
And when I'm rollin' by, niggas can't see me

The stares of a million pairs of eyes
And you'll never realize, you can't see me

Been gettin' worried that these square mothafuckers with nerves
Sayin' they can get with us but picture me gettin' served
My own mama say I'm thugged out, my shit be bumpin' out
Tha record store as if it was a drug house

My lyrics bang like a Crip or Blood, nigga what?
It ain't nothin' but a party when we thug and there I was
A young nigga with heart ain't had a shit to lose
Pullin' my pistol on them fools, you know the rules

D R E you got me heated my words like a penitentiary dick
Hittin' bitches where it's most needed money and weed
Alazay and Hennesse, to my thug niggas in lock down
Witness me bail on these ho's in floss mode

Tha life of a Boss Playa, fuck what ya thought tho'
My enemies deceased, die like a bitch
When my album hit tha streetz, niggas can't see me
Niggas can't see

Which way did he go, George?
Which way did he go?
Which way did he go?
Which way did he go?

You niggas made a mistake
You shoulda never put my rhymes with Dre
Them thug niggas have arrived and it's Judgement Day
Hey, homie if ya feel me, tell them tricks that shot me

That they missed they ain't killed me
I can make a mothafucker shake
Rattle and roll, I'm full of liquor
Thug nigga quick to jab at them ho's

And I can make ya jealous niggas famous
Fuck around with 2Pac and see how good a nigga's aim is
I'm just a rich mothafucker from tha way
If this rappin' bring me money then I'm rappin' till I'm paid

I'm gettin' green like I'm supposed to
Nigga, I holla at these ho's and see how many I can go through
Look to the star and visualize my debut
Niggas know me, playa I gotta stay true

Don't be a dumb mothafucker
'Cause it's crazy after dark
Where the true thug niggas
See ya heart? Niggas can't see me

Yo, check this out, stay off his dick
Niggas can't see
(Right before your eyes I'll disappear from here)
You niggas can't see me
(You can't see me)

I know it's hard nigga, I'm all up in your face but you still can't see
(You can't see me)
All up in your range, but niggas can't see
20/20 vision won't visualize
(I'm in tha flesh, baby but you can't see me)
All the glasses won't help you realize

You blinded, you blinded, you can't c me, you can't c me
Thug life, baby, don't believe everything you read
Alazay and weed
(You can't see me, right before your very eyes, you won't even visualize)

(You can't see me)
Dr. Dre all day, 2Pac, niggas can't see me
I dedicate this to you punk mothafuckers
This one's for you big baby 'coz you bitch ass
Niggas can't see me, niggas can't see me
(You can't see me)

See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil, you won't see me
First see me, now ya don't, wanna see me, but ya won't
Come to see me, but ya can't, ohh, you can't see me, you can't see me
Right between your eyes, you'll never realize

Right before your eyes, you won't even realize
Visualize what you can't see, you can't, you can't see me

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fcceb3d9aa3e120668d57ad09d98be01

I Shot Ya (Remix) - Lyrics - Mr Smith - Ll Cool J

Title: I Shot Ya (Remix)
Album: Mr Smith
Artist: Ll Cool J
Composer(s): James Brown, Jean Claude Olivier, Lyn Collins, James Todd Smith

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
Yeah, L.O.D.
Keith Murray, Def Squad
Mr., Mr., Mr., Mr. Smith
You wanna hit?
Uhh, gimme an hour plus a pen and a pad

Yo, I'm here to make a dollar out of fifteen cents
And let my balls hang like I'm on a toilet takin' a shit
My style is all that, and a big bag of chips wit' the dip
Fuck all that sensuous shit, I represent intellectual violence

And leave your click holier than the Ten Commandments
Like Redman I shift with tha ruck
If ya if was a spliff we'd be all fucked up
No need to ask you who is he, son I get busy

Scuff my Timbs on the boulevard of many ruff cities
I'll have to Norman Bate ya, I love ta hate ya
'Cause youse a freak by nature, can't wait to face ya, mutilate ya
Drink your style down straight wit' no chaser

My verbal combat's like a mini-Mac to your back
As soon as one of you niggaz try to over react
Tha L.O.D. love good confrontation or vamp
Break your concentration, murder your camp

For tha jealous, overzealous, we fellaz
Blow the the spot like Branford Marsalis
Niggaz comin' through and actin' wild
Y'all commercial niggaz better have a Coke and a smile, I shot ya

Yo, I conversate wit' many men, it's time to begin again
Forgot what I already knew, aiyyo you hear me friend?
Illuminati want my mind, soul, and my body
Secret society, tryin' to keep they eye on me

But I'm stay incogni', in places they can't find me
Make my moves strategically, the G.O.D.
It's sorta similar but iller than a chess player
I use my thinker, it coincides with my blinker

While you wondered what we sayin' on the records real
Yeah, you motherfuckin' right kid you know the deal
My Mobb is infamous just like the fuckin' title read
You get back slapped so hard make ya nose bleed

Some, kids feeling guilty 'bout the
But you first baby girl so just face it
But anyway, back on the real side of things
My niggaz sling cracks and wear fat diamond rings

Not only is it inside the songs that we sing
Everything is real not just a song that we sing
From my life to the paper, very accurately
Give you all of my two so maybe you can three

Prodigy will forever will S-H-I-N-E
My shit attract millions like the moon attract the sea
How dare you ever in your life walk past me
Without acknowledgin' this man as G-O-D, I shot ya faggot ass

Now who the fuck you think you talkin to, I pay dues I spray crews
Look I'm Joey Crack, motherfuckers be like he's bad news
Runnin' this racket, from New York to Montego
Slaughterin' people, bring a ton of keys from Puerto Rico

I'd rather be feared than loved because the fear lasts longer
These bitch ass niggaz know we stronger
Than these weaklings, seekin', for respect that ain't there
Knuckleheads beware, there's mad tension in the air

Tommy guns for fun, shotties for block parties
While fresh lead heats up your insides like a fifth of Bacardi
Call the ambulance, this man's wet
Bullets cut him down from the root up just like a Gillette razor

Which I keep hidden in my oral
Ready to spatter, at any ad out, that wants to quarrel
These feds want me for some tax evasion
Now that the fact that somebody's gettin' lucci that's not Caucasian

Bullets be blazin'
Through these streets
Filled with torture
Joey Crack, a.k.a. Keyser Soze

Thug niggaz give they minks to chinks
To' down we sip drinks rockin' minks, flashin' rings and things
Frontin' hardcore deep inside the Jeep, mackin'
Doin' my thing fly nigga you a Scarface king

Bitches grab ya ta-ta's, get them niggaz for they chedda
Fuck it, Gucci sweaters and Armani leathers
Flossin' rocks like the size of Fort Knox
Four carats, the ice rocks, pussy bangin' like Versace locs pops

Want ta the creep, on the light raw ass cheeks
I'm sexin' raw dog without protection, disease infested
Uh, Italiano got the Lucciano
I gets down fuckin' with Brown Fox extra keys to the drop

Boo I'm jingling jaby, I got crazy Dominicans who pay me
To lay low, I play slow
Roll with tha Firm, Mafiaso crime king pin
It all real nigga what tha deal, I shot ya

What the fuck? I thought I conquered the whole world
Crushed Moe Dee, Hammer, and Ice-T's girl
But still, niggaz want to instigate shit
I'll battle any nigga in tha rap game quick

Name the spot, I make it hot for ya bitches
Female rappers too, I don't give a fuck boo
Word, I'm here to crush all my peers
Rhymes of the month in The Source for twenty years

Niggaz scared, I'm detrimental to your mental state
I use my presidential Rolex to be debate
Niggaz fight, glock cocked ya temple gets fucked
MC's, that fuck with LL they gets bucked

That's real, what's up with that 'I shot ya' deal?
Light shit, niggaz slip now how the bullet feel?
New York appeal, in L.A. they gang bang
But if you touch a mic your motherfuckin' ass hang

That's facts, niggaz don't recieve no type of slack
'Cause if they do, they ass is always runnin' back
Not this time, but next time I'ma name names
LL, shittin' from on top of the game, I shot ya

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f4d9f602aabf73cdc4c727bd4d37ab28

Dont Approach Me - Lyrics - Eminem

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Troublesome '96 - Lyrics - 2Pac- Greatest Hits - 2pac

Title: Troublesome '96
Album: 2Pac- Greatest Hits
Artist: 2pac
Composer(s): Johnny Lee Jackson, Tupac Amaru Shakur, Lawrence Smith, Jalil Hutchins

Lyric:
Troublesome,
Nineteen muthafuckin' 96'
West side, let it be known, nigga
Boss of all bosses, Makaveli

Menacin' methods label me a lethal weapon
Making niggas die, witnessin' breathless imperfections
Can you picture my specific plan to be the man in this wicked land
Under handed hits are planned, scams are plotted over grams of rock
Undercover agents die by the random shots, we all die in the end

So revenge, I swore, I was all about my ends, fuck friends and foes
Me, a born leader, never leave the block without my, my heata
Got me a dog, named him Mobb Bitch Nigga Eata
What could they do to me that little brat? Shit them, niggas

That shot me and still terrified I'll get their ass, how can I show you
How I feel inside? We outlawz motherfuckas, can't kill my pride
Niggas, talk a lot of shit but that's after I'm gone 'cause they fear me
In physical form, let it be known, I'm troublesome

All ya niggas die, put it down to the fullest
Spittin' rhymes and bullets, troublesome, I know what time it is
Call the punk police please, they cant stop us niggas run the streets

Troublesome, gutter ways my mentality is ghetto
We're guerrillas in this criminal war, we all rebels
Death before dishonor bet on bomb on them first niggas
We came for murder, pullin' up in a hearse
Westside was the war cry bustin' all freely screaming fuck

All y'all niggas in Swahili, pistol packin' fresh out of jail
I ain't goin' back, release me to care of my heartless strap
Say my name three times like candy man, bet I roll on your ass
Like an avalanche, a soul survivor, learned to get high
And pull drive bys, murder my foes, can't control my nine

Hearin' thoughts of my enemies pleadin' please
Busta ass motherfuckas tried to flee, picture me lettin'
This chump survive, redin' up on his ass when I'm doped
He die, 'cause I'm troublesome

All ya niggas, die young, strapped and I don't give a fuck
I'm hopeless, I live a thug life loosin' my focus, baby
I'm troublesome, bad boy killa, there is no one realla
What you saw was the rough, rugged and raw, outlaw

Murder, murder my mind states shit ain't change
Since my last rhyme, the crime rate ain't decline
Niggas bustin' shots like they lost their mind
Like twenty-five to life never crossed their mind
Tell me young nigga never learned a thang

Dead at thirteen 'cause he yearned to bang
Sent a lot of flowers but how can I cry
Tried to warn the little nigga, either stop or die
Mercy is for the weak when I speak, I scream
Afraid to sleep I'm havin' crazy dreams

Vivid pictures of my enemies and family times
God to forgive me 'cause it's wrong but I plan to die
You can take me to heaven and understand I was a G
Did the best I could, raised in insanity or send me to hell
'Cause I ain't beggin' for my life, ain't nothing worse
Than this cursed ass hopeless life, I'm troublesome

All ya niggas die in your wildest dreams
You couldn't picture a nigga like me, I'm troublesome

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11ae234b78e30310d15803928227dd2d

Troublesome - Lyrics - 2pac

Title: Troublesome
Artist: 2pac
Composer(s): Johnny Lee Jackson, Tupac Amaru Shakur, Lawrence Smith, Jalil Hutchins

Lyric:
Troublesome,
Nineteen muthafuckin' 96'
West side, let it be known, nigga
Boss of all bosses, Makaveli

Menacin' methods label me a lethal weapon
Making niggas die, witnessin' breathless imperfections
Can you picture my specific plan to be the man in this wicked land
Under handed hits are planned, scams are plotted over grams of rock
Undercover agents die by the random shots, we all die in the end

So revenge, I swore, I was all about my ends, fuck friends and foes
Me, a born leader, never leave the block without my, my heata
Got me a dog, named him Mobb Bitch Nigga Eata
What could they do to me that little brat? Shit them, niggas

That shot me and still terrified I'll get their ass, how can I show you
How I feel inside? We outlawz motherfuckas, can't kill my pride
Niggas, talk a lot of shit but that's after I'm gone 'cause they fear me
In physical form, let it be known, I'm troublesome

All ya niggas die, put it down to the fullest
Spittin' rhymes and bullets, troublesome, I know what time it is
Call the punk police please, they cant stop us niggas run the streets

Troublesome, gutter ways my mentality is ghetto
We're guerrillas in this criminal war, we all rebels
Death before dishonor bet on bomb on them first niggas
We came for murder, pullin' up in a hearse
Westside was the war cry bustin' all freely screaming fuck

All y'all niggas in Swahili, pistol packin' fresh out of jail
I ain't goin' back, release me to care of my heartless strap
Say my name three times like candy man, bet I roll on your ass
Like an avalanche, a soul survivor, learned to get high
And pull drive bys, murder my foes, can't control my nine

Hearin' thoughts of my enemies pleadin' please
Busta ass motherfuckas tried to flee, picture me lettin'
This chump survive, redin' up on his ass when I'm doped
He die, 'cause I'm troublesome

All ya niggas, die young, strapped and I don't give a fuck
I'm hopeless, I live a thug life loosin' my focus, baby
I'm troublesome, bad boy killa, there is no one realla
What you saw was the rough, rugged and raw, outlaw

Murder, murder my mind states shit ain't change
Since my last rhyme, the crime rate ain't decline
Niggas bustin' shots like they lost their mind
Like twenty-five to life never crossed their mind
Tell me young nigga never learned a thang

Dead at thirteen 'cause he yearned to bang
Sent a lot of flowers but how can I cry
Tried to warn the little nigga, either stop or die
Mercy is for the weak when I speak, I scream
Afraid to sleep I'm havin' crazy dreams

Vivid pictures of my enemies and family times
God to forgive me 'cause it's wrong but I plan to die
You can take me to heaven and understand I was a G
Did the best I could, raised in insanity or send me to hell
'Cause I ain't beggin' for my life, ain't nothing worse
Than this cursed ass hopeless life, I'm troublesome

All ya niggas die in your wildest dreams
You couldn't picture a nigga like me, I'm troublesome

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328e8432102aaa9c9da802847b72f7cc

Hate In Yo Eyes - Lyrics - Mack 10

Title: Hate In Yo Eyes
Artist: Mack 10
Composer(s): Dedrick Rolison, Maurice Gibb, Andre Young, Barry Gibb, Robin Gibb

Lyric:
You can hear it bumpin' through the door
It's a party jumpin' on the floor
And from the way it sound, it ain't no doubt (What's up)
That the West coast is in your mouth

Yeah, yeah
It's all gravy, petty cash never fades me
So pour me a shot of 'gnac and purple haze me
I'm a hustler, gettin' cash like crazy
Hard grindin' pays me, work ethic is never lazy
Block hugger, the hood raised me
And she, won't be happy till she lays me
No, you never seem to amaze me
So the cheap shot you took at me never even grazed me
'Cause my name sparkin' like a street king
'Cause I mixed the Hoo-Bang thing with the bling bling
A whole lot of haters out there, it seem
But I flip 'em all off and keep doin' my thing
I'm a boss about when I Inglewood swing
Rocked out from my ear down to my pinkie ring
Now ding-ding, let the bell ring
And if it's drama you want, then it's drama I bring, sing

It's me you wanna be, indeed
And I could still see the hate in yo' eyes, hate in yo' eyes
'Cause I'm livin' like a G, you intrigued
And I could still see the hate in yo' eyes, hate in yo' eyes
Never trippin' 'cause it ain't nothin' to me
But I could still see the hate in yo' eyes, hate in yo' eyes
Ha, ha, ha
I could see the hate in yo' eyes, hate in yo' eyes

Look, you local cats is just small potatoes
No names 'cause this addressed to all the haters
From the Wood, there is none greater
Mack the headliner and y'all are spectators
Remember ?Foe Life? I put the Wood in it
And looked out for you when your own hood didn't
And plus you forgot who was payin' your bills
Introduced you to the game and gave you a deal
For me good livin', y'all independently rhymin'
You got the hustle game backwards, you nickel and dimin'
Oh, hip-hop classics, I make 'em and got 'em
And your group, ain't been heard of past the bottoms
I can't go to my turf and mingle with my Gs
I got one word to say about that one (What?) ?Please?
Chicken hawks, y'all ain't worth a feather in my wing
And all this hatin' just let me know I'm doin' my thing, sing

It's me you wanna be, indeed
And I could still see the hate in yo' eyes, hate in yo' eyes
'Cause I'm livin' like a G, you intrigued
And I could still see the hate in yo' eyes, hate in yo' eyes
Never trippin' 'cause it ain't nothin' to me
But I could still see the hate in yo' eyes, hate in yo' eyes
Ha, ha, ha
I could see the hate in yo' eyes, hate in yo' eyes

Hoo-Bang, Hoo ride
All day, all night
Throw dubs up high
Westside foe life
Hoo-Bang, Hoo ride
All day, all night
Throw dubs up high
Westside foe life

Now tell me, is it the deuce-ones on the Bentley
The lowriders, the mansions, is that why you resent me
Smile in my face and act so friendly
Walk away with hate and a heart full of envy
Say bro, what part of the game is that
You got ways like a dame and how lame is that
Actin' like a groupie around famous cats
And it's strange, you don't have no shame in that
I got your card, playboy, but I ain't trippin'
You know me, I just roll with the punches and keep it pimpin'
Get dough by bunches, donatin' and tippin'
Let it ride on the Harley, and 6-4 dippin'
Stay real about my scrill if you know what I mean
I'm like a leprechaun, I want nothin' but green
Avoid the haters and for the party scene
Copped a rock from the D-R to make their heads ring, sing

It's me you wanna be, indeed
And I could still see the hate in yo' eyes, hate in yo' eyes
'Cause I'm livin' like a G, you intrigued
And I could still see the hate in yo' eyes, hate in yo' eyes
Never trippin' 'cause it ain't nothin' to me
But I could still see the hate in yo' eyes, hate in yo' eyes
Ha, ha, ha
I could see the hate in yo' eyes, hate in yo' eyes

It's me you wanna be, indeed
And I could still see the hate in yo' eyes, hate in yo' eyes
'Cause I'm livin' like a G, you intrigued
And I could still see the hate in yo' eyes, hate in yo' eyes
Never trippin' 'cause it ain't nothin' to me
But I could still see the hate in yo' eyes, hate in yo' eyes
Ha, ha, ha
I could see the hate in yo' eyes, hate in yo' eyes

Mack 1-O, Hoo-Bangin' foe life
And it don't quit
Take a picture trick, yeah
Take a picture trick, yeah
It might make you rich
Westside riders, baby
Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh

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d73d7b421b7bd79a3081ecc12826a2a3

Bet Ya Man Can'T (Triz) - Lyrics - Don Cartagena - Fat Joe

Title: Bet Ya Man Can'T (Triz)
Album: Don Cartagena
Artist: Fat Joe
Composer(s): Samuel Garcia, James Brown, Cheryl Lynn, David Paich, Christopher Rios, Sean Combs, F Delgado, J Ortiz, Joseph Cartagena, D Foster, Kimberly Jones, Steve Jordan, Vickie Anderson

Lyric:
Blam, bang, bang baby
Yeah, Terror Squad style
Trizzie, check it out now

Yo, I'm rated X in sex
I flex like Lex Lugor
So who's next to get
Scooped up by this roughneck from Cuba?

We do maneuvers like Super Dave
Always with a group of babes
Sayin', "Mami's out"
Like Sugar Ray

'Cause Cuban Link don't play miss
I flip and do some strange
(Shit)
Witchu like hit you
With the whips and chains, check it

I get you naked like I'm mystic
'Cause this is thick as a brick
(Dick)
Raw with big that bend it
(Balls)
Now let's get, physical, my jiggable pie

Let this lyrical guy scuba dive
Right between your thighs
I satisfy like a Snickers bar
'Cause I'm the bigger bar

That'll stick you quicker than
A 'spic will strip a car
My repertoire holds a four star
Performance with all women

Hittin' more skins than Alec Baldwin
You're fallin' in love and you can't get up
Now check the cut, I stripped ya
Now you can't strut, word up

Bet ya man can't do it like that
(Like that?)
He can't work the middle
'Cause his thing too little
Bet ya man can't do it like that
(Like that?)
I make you scream papa
(You the best dada)

Bet ya man can't do it like that
(Like that?)
He can't work the middle
'Cause his thing too little
Bet ya man can't do it like that
(Like that?)
I make you scream papa
(You the best dada)

Yeah, uh, uh, yo
Paradin' in the Palladium
All eyes on my presence
Poppin' the crist', sportin' the chick
Straight out of essence

Word up, patch thug
Three quarter front Polo jiggy
Be like, ?Who is he?
Lookin' like a grizzly?

While your girl watch me
You're busy drink pissy
Wanna lay your love
But your love wanna kiss me, huh

I got a fly team, me and my guys
Gleam like high beams
Makin' the killin' off
Of friends with pipe dreams

It might seem, like
I'm conceited with the cream talk
But I got the kind of green
That could bribe a Supreme Court

And when we talk
The whole world listen
Turn your back to T.S. for one second
And find your girl missin'

Baby, make me holla
Take it off, I give you dolla
We can party till manana
Ain't nobody gotta know nada

Word to Allah
Give me some Mississippi massana
I'll be in the sauna
Troopin' the naga like the chupacabra

Cool it mama, you gettin' too hot
Bust a shot, boo-ya, rub it up and down
Like my oo-wops, Suscia, show me your dirty dance
The way you work the pants make
Any man wanna jerk his gnads

Bet ya man can't do it like that
(Like that?)
He can't work the middle
'Cause his thing too little
Bet ya man can't do it like that
(Like that?)
I make you scream papa
(You the best dada)

Yo, my official like it in
(Shit's)
You like, Keith Murray
Bury my beef, gettin' your sweet cherry
Every week if necessary

I'm very nasty like Nas, did you ask me?
Pass me those, cheeks
(Ass)
And I'll bring you joy like Black Street
In the backseat of my jeep
We can chill or creep like TLC but don't sleep

I keep it real, what the deal mami?
You wanna feel on my steel salami?
Come and try me, I'll sign my name
All over your punani

Ohh mami, you comin' home with me?
All night in my tub drinkin' Hennessey
Gettin' layed up with your thighs up
I'ma surprise her when I rise up, inside her

Yippie kay yay, I'ma ride her
And guide her straight to the triz
Where we goin', straight to the crib
Pun in here and Cuban and Seis

You know what time it is?
Soon as we walk in the crib
Let's get biz, triz, triz, triz
Triz, triz, triz, triz, triz
(Okay)

Since ya man can't do it like Link
(Like Link?)
He can't work the middle
'Cause his thing too little
Bet ya man can't do it like Seis
(Like Seis?)
I make you scream papa
(You the best dada)

Bet ya man can't do it like Crack
(Like Crack?)
He can't work the middle
'Cause his thing too little
Bet ya man can't do it like Pun
(Like Pun?)
I make you scream papa
(You the best bana)

Bet ya man can't do it like Link
(Like Link?)
He can't work the middle
'Cause his thing too little
Bet ya man can't do it like Seis
(Like Seis?)
I make you scream papa
(You the best dada)

Bet ya man can't do it like Crack
(Like Crack?)
He can't work the middle
'Cause his thing too little
Bet ya man can't do it like Pun
(Like Pun?)
I make you scream papa, adios mama

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30f3fc95944d2e982aab5bd9096fb6b0

Shooter - Lyrics - The Evolution of Robin Thicke - Robin Thicke

Title: Shooter
Album: The Evolution of Robin Thicke
Artist: Robin Thicke
Composer(s): James D Gass, Bobby B Keyes, Dwayne Michael Carter, Robert Daniels, Robin A Thicke

Lyric:
Yeah, yeah, yeah, Weezy, baby, y'all don't get shot
Rapid fire, what you know about it?
I brought my homie along for the ride
He strapped, he can't wait to come out the barrel

I heard some shouts like "Down on the floor"
Then even louder, "We got shooters, shooter"
I turnin' around, I was starin' at chrome
Shotgun watches door, got security good

Jumped right over counter
Pointed gun at winkin' teller
I'm your shooter, shooter, shooter

My hands up, my hands up
They want me with my hands up
Oh, shooter

My hands up, my hands up
They want me with my hands up
Oh, shooter

So many doubt 'cause I come from the South
But when I open up my mouth, all bullets come out
Bang, die, bitch nigga, die, I hope you bleed a lake
I'ma play X-ray, helpin' y'all see the fake

I'm just tryin' to be the great, tryin' to get a piece of cake
Take it offa your plate, eat it right in your face
They got a whole lot to say but I don't listen
Call me Automatic Weezy, bitch, I keep spittin', pow

With all these riches and all these riches
But ain't no loaners around
They thinkin' about shooters that, shooters that
Guns, girls, ladies that, gunners that
Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shooter

Yeah, hands up
They want me with my hands up
Oh, shooter

No, no but I'm not
I just cry, mama, I think they, hey
I think they want me to surrender, shooter

And to the radio stations, I'm tired of bein' patient
Stop bein' rapper racists, region haters
Spectators, dictators, behind door dick takers
It's outrageous

You don't know how sick you make us
I wanna to throw up like chips in Vegas
But this is Southern, face it
If we too simple, then y'all don't get the basics

Lady walks into a shotgun surprise
Dropped to her knees, saw her life before her eyes
He said, "Bitch is gonna get it", everybody gon' regret it
I'm your shooter

My hands up, my hands up
They want me with my hands up
Oh, shooter

My hands up, my hands up
They want me with my hands up
Oh, shooter

Sock soakin' wet, I been runnin', y'all
I reload every hundred yards, I'm comin' forward
Better know me, Lil' Wayne, just call me Lord
Hard, take pain like Tylenols, raw way past par

For I'm some shit you never saw
I take you to the shootout, baby, win, lose or draw
Yeah and then they ask who, when, where, how
And my reply was simply pow

They want me to surrender
Oh, shooter
My hands up, my hands up
They want me to surrender
Oh, shooter

No, no
I promise no surrender
I got my burner
And I'm your shooter

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ba390b1193468c1232a798f20c1007bb

Shooter - Lyrics - Tha Carter, Vol. 2 - Lil' Wayne

Title: Shooter
Album: Tha Carter, Vol. 2
Artist: Lil' Wayne
Composer(s): James D Gass, Bobby B Keyes, Dwayne Michael Carter, Robert Daniels, Robin A Thicke

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
Yeah, yeah, yeah, Weezy, baby, y'all don't get shot
Rapid fire, what you know about it?
I brought my homie along for the ride
He strapped, he can't wait to come out the barrel

I heard some shouts like "Down on the floor"
Then even louder, "We got shooters, shooter"
I turnin' around, I was starin' at chrome
Shotgun watches door, got security good

Jumped right over counter
Pointed gun at winkin' teller
I'm your shooter, shooter, shooter

My hands up, my hands up
They want me with my hands up
Oh, shooter

My hands up, my hands up
They want me with my hands up
Oh, shooter

So many doubt 'cause I come from the South
But when I open up my mouth, all bullets come out
Bang, die, bitch nigga, die, I hope you bleed a lake
I'ma play X-ray, helpin' y'all see the fake

I'm just tryin' to be the great, tryin' to get a piece of cake
Take it offa your plate, eat it right in your face
They got a whole lot to say but I don't listen
Call me Automatic Weezy, bitch, I keep spittin', pow

With all these riches and all these riches
But ain't no loaners around
They thinkin' about shooters that, shooters that
Guns, girls, ladies that, gunners that
Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shooter

Yeah, hands up
They want me with my hands up
Oh, shooter

No, no but I'm not
I just cry, mama, I think they, hey
I think they want me to surrender, shooter

And to the radio stations, I'm tired of bein' patient
Stop bein' rapper racists, region haters
Spectators, dictators, behind door dick takers
It's outrageous

You don't know how sick you make us
I wanna to throw up like chips in Vegas
But this is Southern, face it
If we too simple, then y'all don't get the basics

Lady walks into a shotgun surprise
Dropped to her knees, saw her life before her eyes
He said, "Bitch is gonna get it", everybody gon' regret it
I'm your shooter

My hands up, my hands up
They want me with my hands up
Oh, shooter

My hands up, my hands up
They want me with my hands up
Oh, shooter

Sock soakin' wet, I been runnin', y'all
I reload every hundred yards, I'm comin' forward
Better know me, Lil' Wayne, just call me Lord
Hard, take pain like Tylenols, raw way past par

For I'm some shit you never saw
I take you to the shootout, baby, win, lose or draw
Yeah and then they ask who, when, where, how
And my reply was simply pow

They want me to surrender
Oh, shooter
My hands up, my hands up
They want me to surrender
Oh, shooter

No, no
I promise no surrender
I got my burner
And I'm your shooter

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