Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Buck, Buck, Pass, artist - Paris.
Date of issue: 10.09.2015
Song language: English
Buck, Buck, Pass |
I was told, because I didn’t witness the jump off |
I was sick even 'fore I got my first cough |
I was cold and black and made for killin' |
With no conscience or feelings |
Just like the million other burners that’s just like me |
Assembly line made killers for the murder and bleedin' |
Got my first taste loaded when they tried to test me |
Exploded on the first one, caught him in his chest |
That’s what a gat’s made of |
Knowin' I’m the hate that hate made, and regulate anyone |
Equalize, neutralize any situation |
Any cat runnin' up, any confrontation |
I was put into a room with the rest of us |
With the rest of us, ready to bust |
Many rounds, any town, any city or state |
Never rest, any contest, sealin' your fate |
No mistake, I only come out when talkin’s done |
After squawkin' some, and never run |
Never foolin' and ya just might lose, black steel in the hour |
Give the power to the average dude shootin' |
Clik clak boom, that’s the rule |
Clear the room, when I move 'em, cause confusion |
Known for retribution, ain’t no mercy, it’s murder |
I burn 'em and hurt 'em no further words necessary |
We bring the, pain to make ya bend |
No thing to, make ya, understand |
Just blast it, pass it, on again |
Keep it movin' when we |
Buck, Buck, Pass |
Don’t fight, no, we blow, holes in them |
We might go, psycho, soldier then |
Just line the, sight up, hold the grip |
Keep it shootin' when we |
Buck, Buck, Pass |
Guess I passed the first test ‘cause they shipped me out |
Extra clips and a grip quick to whip me out |
Turn nerds and these teenagers into killers |
Overseas in Afghanistan, every village |
I would go from being cold to warm, to hot quick |
If anybody wanted some, it’s on |
Once dumped on a whole neighborhood for fun |
Even shoot you in your back it I caught your ass runnin' |
Little kids and they mamas too |
Might pick ya little man off the roof, who’s who |
Don’t matter cause they all look the same to me |
The blood splatter on the concrete stains and claims the streets |
No peace from this piece |
I squeeze em and beat 'em, feed 'em slugs when the lugs get dumped |
It’s no reasoning, it’s no use pleading, it’s open season |
We defeat 'em when this heater get heated I bleed 'em and leave 'em |
We bring the, pain to make ya bend |
No thing to, make ya, understand |
Just blast it, pass it, on again |
Keep it movin' when we |
Buck, Buck, Pass |
Don’t fight, no, we blow, holes in them |
We might go, psycho, soldier then |
Just line the, sight up, hold the grip |
Keep it shootin' when we |
Buck, Buck, Pass |
Made it back in one piece fasho |
But can’t say the same for the homeboy that brought me home |
He was off on that PTSD |
The PTSD was keepin' him tweakin' and testy |
'Fore long for we was hittin' the streets |
Bloodshed wasn’t nothin' to me, we street sweepin' with no relief |
Full metal jacket as we pump and dump 'em and stack 'em |
Let’s get it crackin' |
Be the first to burst, now who’s the last to last, I blast them |
To ashes, and fill they little caskets fast |
That’s what I do, that’s my job, I was made for the beef |
Killin' off all these young black men and causing grief |
Oakland, Frisco, Detroit, LA, Chicago |
That’s where I go |
From city to city, backyard to yard, even Newtown Connecticut |
But now ya wanna ban my clips, hypocrites |
Never gave a damn about a black teen dyin' |
Quit lyin' |
Take me down to your neighborhood buy back |
They so scared, they don’t want to see me try that |
But it’s so many more like me |
We multiply, never die, we exist to feed |
We exist in America from corporate greed |
In the midst of the fake fear, lyin' and evil |
Even got the police turnin' on each other |
Blap a pig with that «get back,» run for cover |
Now it’s all bad, funny how it’s all bad |
When the tables turn, got 'em shakin' till they fall back |
And ya better hope that we don’t come for ya |
NRA, LaPierre, get 'em done for ya |
Never thought we would come back and gun for ya |
Pull the hammer smooth back and then dump for ya |
«Most of the shootings took place in poor neighborhoods, far from downtown and |
tourist attractions; |
One reason much of the city seems to be shrugging its |
shoulders.» |
We bring the, pain to make ya bend |
No thing to, make ya, understand |
Just blast it, pass it, on again |
Keep it movin' when we |
Buck, Buck, Pass |
Don’t fight, no, we blow, holes in them |
We might go, psycho, soldier then |
Just line the, sight up, hold the grip |
Keep it shootin' when we |
Buck, Buck, Pass |
We bring the, pain to make ya bend |
No thing to, make ya, understand |
Just blast it, pass it, on again |
Keep it movin' when we |
Buck, Buck, Pass |
Don’t fight, no, we blow, holes in them |
We might go, psycho, soldier then |
Just line the, sight up, hold the grip |
Keep it shootin' when we |
Buck, Buck, Pass |