Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Hit Man, artist - Gang Starr. Album song One Of The Best Yet, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.10.2019
Record label: Gang Starr Enterprises, TTT
Song language: English
Hit Man |
The hit man |
His power is so great |
That’s for real |
Ain’t about a whole lotta talk |
It’s about action, can you dig it? |
He got the eye and the heart to do it, yeah |
From the roof with a scope, there’s a whole art to it |
Ain’t no emotion when he pulls the trigger |
Brief second of silence, then you see what he do to niggas |
Pistols, rifles, grenades, whatever |
He’s a killin' machine, bought and paid for and clever |
And way iller than the last nigga |
Smoke a nigga in the club then dance right past niggas |
Once in a while, there’ll be one who’ll stand out |
Who’s more than psycho, who’ll take any man out |
With a certain passion for sendin' bullets blastin' |
A certain fashion to the way this nigga wax 'em |
And this assassin gets mad satisfaction |
From puttin' all this worthless scum out of action |
A sense of pride in his skill |
Looks in the mirror and salutes before he rides for the kill |
You got the bag, pop? |
I got the thing-thing |
It’s in the sling, here it is, let me let it ring |
With the doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo |
Or do it lawn mower style, rrt |
You got the bag, pop? |
I got the thing-thing |
It’s in the sling, here it is, let me let it ring |
I got potatoes and the mufflers in the whole thing |
With the fwt, doo-pa, doo-pa, doo-pa, doo-pa, doo-pa, doo-pa |
Buckin' at niggas wigs while he’s puffin' on cigs |
Lay him down, then he bounce out of town to another gig |
It ain’t nothin', he don’t need many friends |
Funded different type of weapons, he got plenty of them |
If you pass him on the street or see him in his spot |
He’s always calm, cool, collected, very rarely is he not |
Hit man, with ice in his veins |
Does the job so precise they up the price with his name |
Shadowy figure, never too loose with the lip |
Forty-four long in his coat, deuce-deuce on his hip |
Baby nine in his boots and his trunk is full |
This nigga’s on some shit and can’t be fucked with, fool |
In the grimy world of highly-paid hustlers |
First they get goons to muscle ya, then get him to touch ya |
You wouldn’t wanna get in his way, nor his associates |
Or a tombstone bearin' your name will be appropriate |
You got the bag, pop? |
I got the thing-thing |
It’s in the sling, here it is, let me let it ring |
With the doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo |
Or do it lawn mower style, rrt |
You got the bag, pop? |
I got the thing-thing |
It’s in the sling, here it is, let me let it ring |
I got potatoes and the mufflers in the whole thing |
With the fwt, doo-pa, doo-pa, doo-pa, doo-pa, doo-pa, doo-pa, doo-pa |