Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Wavin The Pistol , by - MC Eiht. Song from the album Veterans Day, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 27.09.2004
Record label: Native
Song language: English
Wavin The Pistol |
| Anytime y’all wanna go |
| Motherfuckers, just let us know |
| Wherever you at, we kick in the do' |
| And start wavin the pistol |
| I’m a nigga, still struggle in the Compton streets |
| West coast all day til my life’s complete |
| Like my homie W.C., you don’t work, you don’t eat |
| Try to drown out the gunshots wit loud beats |
| True son of the ghetto, No doubt I’mma ball |
| Live my life reckless like it snow tomorrow |
| I win any fuckin shoot 'em up contest |
| It’s no disputin which side’s the best |
| Have gun, niggas will travel |
| Stay up on it, motherfucker till they slam the gavel |
| We slang, we jack, We do drive-bys |
| We fuck wit hoodrats and always stay high |
| Some shit that we go through |
| Finger pointing, motherfucker like we know you |
| Compton, motherfucker, hard act to follow |
| And ya pride hard to swallow, like love from the hollow |
| Eiht motherfucker, Always so hood |
| Catch me in the streets cause nigga it’s all good |
| Only heavy bodyguard I roll wit is the metal |
| Like a stunt driver when I’m pushin the pedal |
| Knuckle to knuckle, Don’t buckle bob and weave |
| Reveal the compton tat up under my sleeve |
| Behind it wit the trigger finger like I was steve |
| Got the whole town talkin like I was fuckin eve |
| I’m a product of the pre N.W.A |
| Wit the quality product tryin to double my pay |
| To live and die in compton and L. A |
| It’s about one victim like everyday |
| Fist fight in the liquor store parking lot |
| Shoot a nigga when he sit up in ya parking spot |
| Little hustle tryin to make a lot |
| Like a little bg and his first spot |
| Geah |
| You got guns, We got straps |
| We true to these murder raps, We peel caps |
| We ain’t snitches motherfucker, We just take the charge |
| That’s why I skip bail, Then ran, I’m still at large |
| These hood niggas televise game for sale |
| Wannabe motherfuckers in the game should tell |
| Compton, We gained much respect |
| You better duck down when the shells eject |
| And ya little frail chest or vest won’t protect |
| From this true westside compton connect |
| On ya front porch, Play connect the red dots |
| Like a photographer aiming for head shots |
| 04, you get eight the hard way |
| Even in broad day, the sound of ricochet |
| This ain’t denzel on the set, it’s been hell |
| E wit the four-o federal mail |
| Geah |