Lyrics Shoot To Kill - Mad Lion

Shoot To Kill

I say!
Soundboy, there’s no need to worry
As long as I got my nines, I’ll keep it by my side for you
So you don’t have to worry at all
I shine my Glock every night until I’m satisfied
And there’s no more thoughts to the joy it brings
I wanna full you up with lead
Shoot to kill, every day
Shoot to kill soundboys, gun without a limit
Shoot to kill, every day
Shoot to kill soundboys, gun without a limit
Mi just back them up, shot them up, lick off them head
Nah tell no lie, a long time them fi dead
Aim the Glock, load it back, and step down the block
Make them know bad bwoy don’t take chat
We just shot them up (BO!), cau' we wicked like that
Nah tell no lie, nuff guys who a flop
BDP and Mad Lion combine
Make them know we just shot out a guy’s spine
Wicked bad bwoy a deh pon the front line
Cau' we gun don’t join church
Nah go a Sunday School
Waan diss the program bwoy?
You lie down in a blood pool!
Test, Kid Capri we just shot dat (BO!)
Test, Bobby Konders we just shot dat (BO!)
Funkmaster Flex,
you can’t test him (BO!)
Awesome 2
, make we lick shot (BO!)
Who’s been listening to BDP
From 1986 to 1993?
Hands up in the air, make the Mad Lion see
Lick pure shot if you love it badly (BO! BO!)
Cause soundboy, there’s no need to worry
As long as I got my nines, I’ll keep it by my side for you
I take a whiff of my spliff and then I ches back
Don’t haffi worry KRS him have my back
He have the gun with the red light pon top
Willie D yes, him crazy, hold 20 mags
Diss the program bwoy, you pick up a shot
One, two, three, down, nuh take back chat
That’s why soundboy, there’s no need to worry
As long as I got my nines, I’ll keep it by my side for you
So you don’t have to worry at all
I shine my Glock every night, each night 'til I’m satisfied
And there’s no more thoughts to the joy it brings
I wanna full you up with shots
Shots without a limit
Shoot to kill
Shot the bwoy
Write him will
Six feet under
Can’t come back
Dead man dem
Cannot chat
I just back them up, shot them up, lick off them head
Nah tell no lie, a long time them fi dead
Aim the Glock, load it back, and step down the block
Make them know BDP don’t take chat
See the bwoy waan come flex inna we zone
Make them know BDP take the trophy home
Wicked bad bwoy, and we bad to the bone
Listen Mad Lion pon the damn tune
That’s why
All the people jump and kick up
Know BDP say them sweet like syrup
Hands up in the air and you pop (BO! BO!)