| O' Trice c’mon
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| Yeah, niggas got me
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| I’mma get 'em
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| It ain’t over
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| You can catch me in the whip with a 5th of pimp juice
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| And I’m poppin' the clip 'bout to fix this issue
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| You pray that I don’t hit, I ain’t equipped to miss you
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| You’re gonna need an ambulance to stitch your tissue
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| Or either have a bag on your hip to shit through
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| You seen us on the ave ain’t just to get you
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| While my penis is a mag when I lift it hits you
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| 'Cause I don’t go nowhere without my pistol, pistol
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| I solemnly swear on my daughters tears
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| The nigga that got 'em in the head to fill it before the year ends
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| I hope you inconspicuous my friend
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| 'Cause once the word get back you in a world of sin
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| Bullets will hurdle at him for tryna murder what’s
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| Been determined as the first solo African
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| To go platinum where the accident happened at
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| But maggots I’m alive with vengeance to get back
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| My momma blood pressure was affected from that
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| My little girl need her daddy on the phone at a certain time
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| Exact now and niggas act wild, when the mac come out
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| Y’all niggaz ex' out
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| And I don’t wanna hear X Y Z
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| I’m X’ing out your whole entity for tryin' to kill me
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| Filthy muthafuckas I’ll show you what real be
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| When these HTB’s light up your kidneys
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| I’m so sincere you see in a hearse this year
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| It’s not a verse it’s a curse from birth
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| And what’s on your person over here, this is Obie hearin' clear
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| Niggas beware, we’re coming at you with firearms in air
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| And your purpose on superfluous, how could I be merciful
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| When murkin me’s a mercenary’s goal?
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| Nigga I got paper, I’ll have ya ass urgently exposed
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| No emergency’s bringin' back your souls
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| Slugs shatter your bones, for patt pattin' me in the dome
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| Learn this pattern-in we catch him at home, he wrong
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| That’s when automatics sporadically catch him in the abdomen
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| Another dirty muthafuckas gone
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| You can catch me in the whip with a 5th of pimp juice
|
| And I’m poppin' the clip 'bout to fix this issue
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| You pray that I don’t hit, I ain’t equipped to miss you
|
| You’re gonna need an ambulance to stitch your tissue
|
| Or either have a bag on your hip to shit through
|
| You seen us on the ave ain’t just to get you
|
| While my penis is a mag when I lift it hits you
|
| 'Cause I don’t go no where without my pistol, pistol
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| Second round’s on me
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| Robbin', shootin', killin', murder
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| Oh shit run
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| Robbin', shootin', killin', murder |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Pistol Pistol , by - Obie Trice. Song from the album Eminem Presents The Re-Up, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп