Lyrics Gun Shot - Jarren Benton, Chris Rivers, Termanology

Gun Shot

Maybe i should have killed 4- 5 hundred people, then i would have felt better
Then i would have felt like i really offered the society something
You know, if i wanted to kill somebody
I’d take this book and beat you to death with it, and i wouldn’t feel a thing
It would be just like walking to the drugstore
Yeah, burna by my side i’m Huey Newton in a wicked chair
Wrist frostbit, everywhere i go the bitch is there
Ice cold Benton Ligaments inside the fridge again
Told my mama «Fuck School, 'ima be a billionare»
My heart a ice box fur on my back, that’s white fox
Niggas hit the block, put crack inside they white socks
The shit that niggas do to get a buck or two, let a couple loose now they
pourin' out a couple brews
Dearly departed, i’m killing these artists
I don’t give a fuck about a plaque, they gon' feel me regardless
I need´that dumbbread, i’m so sick i might cut off a fucking nun’s head
I’m the future, bitch i have never had my palms red
I might throw gold at the bottom of my teeth
I’m a problem for you geeks
Never modest, i’m a beast
Parallel to hell, blauw niggas catch a pair of shells
Swing the iron at you niggas diddy with the kettlebell
[Hook
One shot, gun shot, three shot, four shot
Am i dead yet?
One time more
One shot, gun shot, three shot, four shot
Leave it dead on the floor
One shot, gun shot, three shot, four shot
Am i dead yet
One time more
One shot, gun shot, three shot, four shot
Leave it dead on the floor
Drugs, liqour, guns, drugs, liqour, guns
Pull a razor out my gums liqour on my tongue
I sniff gunpowder and i eat metal bullets
Stomp you to death infront of the pigs and sell the footage
Real savage with a still ratchet
Fuck you in the ass with a gun, make you a real faggot
Let’s get these pills crackin', let’s make these mils' matchin'
Houses and cars under the stars cause we been slackin'
I’m so relaxed knowing how to soak a match
You want me on your tracks then i’m gonna overtax
Snap a fast cause' i use a packets crack
I ain’t got no mercy no mo' cause they ain’t got my back
Pussy, i’m Drizzy on back to back, Nas on Ether or Biggie on Life after Death
I call on my goons like «Who we slapping next?»
I have em' blowing in the metal, and no it ain’t the clarinet
[Hook
One shot, gun shot, three shot, four shot
Am i dead yet?
One time more
One shot, gun shot, three shot, four shot
Leave it dead on the floor
One shot, gun shot, three shot, four shot
Am i dead yet
One time more
One shot, gun shot, three shot, four shot
Leave it dead on the floor
Heater by my side, i can feel the cold
Open up the oven, got a sheet of dough
Tell you keep it blunt
If you see the dough, run you mouth until it’s time stand to see it, though
Tell you never grow, bitch i see the dough
Humble but i rumble like Muhammed Ali in the jungle, with these demons with
George Foreman
I’m George Foreman when the Mike titans like Mike Tyson
Tell my sugar ray is gonna pinch right through the darkness, this is life,
fight it
Think outside the box, pack it up like you got lots of it
Fell in love with thots expose like they got cardigans
I was getting carted, hopping trains cause' i have to measure
Drive got me a car, for insurance i got half a Gecko
Racketball been back and forth with paddles on and adderals
Focus on this boat
Cause' there is big fish in the ocean that came from little ponds
Said i feel it never happened, lord it’s
[Hook
One shot, gun shot, three shot, four shot
Am i dead yet?
One time more
One shot, gun shot, three shot, four shot
Leave it dead on the floor
One shot, gun shot, three shot, four shot
Am i dead yet
One time more
One shot, gun shot, three shot, four shot
Leave it dead on the floor