Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Pistol Smoke, artist - Ghostface Killah. Album song Ghostface Killahs, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 12.09.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Believe
Song language: English
Pistol Smoke |
Yo yeah you can get clapped in a deadly hallway |
The killahs skate off in a clean g wagon all grey |
Chain swinging the God gods is cocked for ninas |
Gucci last thing they seen hitting the cement |
The fuck ya’ll standing around for watch my reels I make scripts off strips |
like hold on strip |
I don’t care what he say how many guns he got just ask your mans about my flics |
Movies gruesome bars we boufed it rikers island that phone got bodies on it |
true shit |
A clicks 2 sticks it’ll cost you baby |
That’s 2 pin joints if I lost you baby |
Yeah I’m back we can go bar for bar |
Tied hands together with the ox go scar for scar |
Go ahead and act up injuries gone add up |
Walking out the ER like a mummy all wrapped up |
Come on board shooters we hiring |
Scarface bald head niggas we admire them |
Rumor has it alot of frauds got flaws on em |
See a lot of madea in niggas wrong draws on em |
Many legs I broke many necks I choke many legs I broke many necks I choke many |
legs I broke many necks I choked and if provoked I let the pistol smoke |
Many legs I broke many necks I choke many legs I broke many necks I choke many |
legs I broke many necks I choked and if provoked I let the pistol smoke |
I held him up like a pair of crutches |
Had em all in a jam like I ran with smuckers |
Cops sirens paparazzi over hot bodies |
Head shots in the mazzarotti |
Don’t rap that nigga no polo sheets |
Keep it discreet I told that nigga he be dead in a week |
His bitch told me where he rest where he keep his cheese |
He got a stash box in the wheel of both his Vs |
I got 47 cocaine connects out in monaco |
Top of the line these coke chefs made the honor roll |
And that’s the reason I don’t fuck with faggots |
21 guns that go savage |
70 nuns that tote smoke in the old baggage |
Whatever I see I grab it |
You get the message like its all in a tablet |
You straight bitch like Tiff Hadish |
Hustle grands like Tip Harris |
The whole hood drop like a miscarriage |
Many legs I broke many necks I choke many legs I broke many necks I choke many |
legs I broke many necks I choked and if provoked I let the pistol smoke |
Many legs I broke many necks I choke many legs I broke many necks I choke many |
legs I broke many necks I choked and if provoked I let the pistol smoke |