Lyrics No Guns - Mean, Young, Maddie

No Guns

Better watch your back / Imma make the gat clap
Whole lotta talk / Homie, this is Baghdad
You a walking dead, boy / Imma body bag that
Well you better get to stepping / Coming for your rat pack
Armed and ready / No guns but I spit flames
Don’t mess with my clique, lames
Yeah I’ve been about town on a killing spree, B
Hunting down all my victims
Imma throw shade on them haters with my shadow
From a birds eye view / Imma shoot ‘em with an arrow
Ride in a Camaro / Dancin' with the devil
One man syndicate / you messing with a rebel
Cool, calm, collected but still imma wreck it and nothing can stop it
Well that’s for the record
Make your brain shatter like paint splatter
It’s a vendetta / None do better (Nah)
I’m the king of the crown
So what you gonna do bout it now?
Get the fuck out of town
See imma hold it down
Keep my feet on the ground
When I fire these rounds
Lion City Axe Gang
No guns but we bang bang
Gun shot to the head when I spit that flame
Imma bring that game
So you better not miss that aim
Better not miss that aim
So you better not miss that aim
Miss that aim
Better not miss that aim
So you better not miss that aim
Miss that aim
Run motherfucker run
I’m taking lotta shots / Got no fucking gun
And I’m aiming at your rear view with my iron sight
These bars pack a lotta punch / Call me Iron Mike Tyson
Now you gotta die, son
Left, right, uppercut / Call me M. Bison
But I am no bi-son
You claim to be fire but I don’t see light, son (sun)
Switch up my flow and start rapping like this
If you don’t know me well, keep my name outcha lips
Eyes filled with junk;
still I shoot and don’t miss
If you mess with my biz, don’t mind handling beast
Oh, stole that Kendrick flow but I hope that blonde bitch knows
Not to mess with my crew
Just ‘cos we keeping it cool
We ain’t afraid of you
This ain’t Juice / We don’t fist fight, just step in the booth
We provide the landscape for you architects
But should the base crack, rebuild it back
What you thought I ain’t gon' say shit
You want beef;
now you got the kitchen burning, bitch
How many motherfuckers have I seen in the scene?
And 8 years later I ain’t even know where they been
So better check the resume ‘fore you want war
I fucking hate the drama but boy
I kill for my brothers and die for my fam
I came for the love / I don’t wanna make fans
I done did it proved it all before
Wave a black flag and it’s still 2−4-1−9
So, Keep it out your mouth
One time and we represent proud
The guns not loaded but we banging out loud
When the bell rings, its knock out in this bout
Motherfuckers take shots but they can’t aim
Wanna step up to the block with no game plan
I’m the pilot on this airplane get the fuck out my cockpit
Fuck a template, everyone’s on that Drake shit
What you know about the struggle?
What you know about the route that we took to even get to the hustle
Point your barrel at me, hold it with a clenched fist, pull the cock back take
a shot now homie
I’ll jam the trigger
Like snakes you slither, what a sad sight looking worse than a leper
The death of .XS, motherfucker please…
Imma scoop the game up like a pelican’s beak
I’m holding down the planes where the seraphim sits
NVMBR hold it down where the energy meets
You rallied up your boys, didn’t last for a week, now you both got beef,
what a fucking joke homie
I don’t care no more, I don’t even really wanna rap no more
I stand still even when the curtain calls, this is not even a metaphor
Fuck the face of rap up in sing city
Put my man mean up there ‘cos he held it down, really
The media plays based on personal taste, man they better go brush up on their
history
.XS got it locked down with a skeleton key
Salute the deck boy where the generals be
Imma take shots, No, take shots, come at me
Shells on the ground, who wanna pop next?
Really?
Don’t let your tongue slip;
you got a gun with no clips?
We ‘bout that big trees you only bout to plant seeds / Truth
Proof / Poof!