Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Gun Powder, artist - Rhythm & GreenDate of issue: 15.06.1998
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Gun Powder |
| I reside |
| In Oakland, California Eastside |
| Ain’t no bullshit |
| I mean to the fullest we ride |
| Be wise if you ain’t ready for trigger action |
| Niggas may ask ya now |
| When I comes to blastin |
| The sons of fashion |
| It’s too much |
| Like gettin touched for rappin |
| Slip the clip in you fucked |
| Won’t even know what happened |
| Unload, close caskets from the cappin |
| Defaced |
| Erased |
| Can’t be replaced |
| It’s a disgrace |
| Vet players set this pace |
| Can’t keep up |
| We leave you wit what? |
| Hit your chest |
| Like kicks from the bass? |
| Someone should of told you |
| I’m from the old skool |
| Meanin the cold dude wit heat |
| When I hold my two |
| Make your whole body go like Jul’s |
| Then disinigrate |
| Slugs penitrate any thug |
| Don’t discriminate |
| I mean this |
| Go up in you like intervenous |
| Witness' forgettin this |
| Ain’t seen shit |
| They fiend this |
| Town’s Finest |
| Few dank hits |
| YaHighness |
| Wrap that ass up in a blanket like blindness |
| Dump you in the trunk punk |
| Wit the pump, mass, an semi |
| While I toast yo ass wit the Henny |
| Cuz I’m the type of nigga |
| That’s quick to blast |
| Fuck wit me |
| I bust a cap in that ass |
| Cuz I don’t give a fuck |
| I buck an keep bailin… |
| I hope you bitch niggas ain’t tellin! |
| Chorus *(Rame Royal)* 2x |
| Duce-duce's |
| Duce-5's |
| Glocks |
| An Mac 11's |
| Tech’s, AP-9's |
| AR-15's |
| AK-47's |
| Uzi’s, M-16's |
| (second time «Uzi's, M-16's» is replaced by «fully auto machines») |
| Verse 2 *(Phats Bossalini)* |
| It was me an Rame |
| In a drop top Mustang |
| Money from caine |
| Wit visions of havin fame |
| I went to Regime |
| M-16's wit red beams |
| To serve crack fiends |
| Tef filled the magazines |
| WHAT?! |
| I’m on a come up |
| Pressin my luck |
| Hold Glocks not givin a fuck |
| Fillin my cup to the brim |
| Regrettin my sins |
| I push a Benz |
| Fuck 10's |
| Plus all they friends |
| They love the bubble man |
| It’s Bossi |
| Fuckin wit mine could be costly |
| Multiple shots |
| Slash yo spot then we outtie |
| AK’s |
| Tossin grenades |
| Yo blocks raid |
| When the gun blaze |
| You an yo niggas done hit the pave |
| WHAT?! |
| (Ra-me!!!) |
| What? |
| (Roy-al!) |
| Gun Powder! |
| (echos twice) |
| (Nigga it’s Gonzoe!) |
| When shot’s reign down from the tower |
| It’s Gun Powder |
| Hit yo chest an devour |
| Gun Powder |
| Nigga! |
| Bring you to your final hour |
| It’s Gun Powder. |
| (echos twice) |
| Verse 3 *(Gonzoe)* |
| I’m 21 now |
| Burn keys of weed down to ashes |
| Make more money |
| Sip Henn outta Champagne glasses |
| Like niggas |
| Cuz they give us |
| A foul hand to work with |
| I keep takin hits from the deck until it’s perfect |
| My sister’s smoked out |
| An I’m stuck feedin her kids |
| Work my site phat on the block |
| And it’s worth ends |
| So fuck it |
| Ain’t no luck in this game |
| It’s Rame’s thinkin |
| I ain’t lookin in the police face wit out blinkin |
| Can’t crack |
| The eye contact |
| I give that shit right back |
| Talk to him wit this thang on my lap |
| Maybe it’s my habitat |
| My surroundins |
| My world |
| Bout hoochie bitches |
| Cutlass' |
| Wit 15's poundin |
| It’s Gun Powder |
| Cuz I’m the type of nigga |
| That’s quick to blast |
| Fuck wit me |
| I bust a cap in that ass |
| Cuz I don’t give a fuck |
| I buck an keep bailin… |
| I hope you bitch niggas ain’t tellin! |
| Verse 4 *(Crown Jul)* |
| We got Downtown livin |
| An big city dreams |
| Got my trigger finger |
| An my palms itchin for green |
| Stalkin caps an trench coats |
| Poppin at all them poster nigga kinfolks |
| Best hope is revenge close |
| An get to hoppin |
| I get to choppin dicks off |
| This ain’t Lorenna Bobbit |
| They can’t stop it |
| I gets off |
| And man you been spotted |
| Red dotted |
| Ya head shot at |
| Bustin 3−57's |
| Pushin 3−50 rocket |
| Up an down the asphalte |
| Catapultin bullets up in them ass holes |
| Full of dope |
| We full of saucy |
| Get the cash flow |
| Drunk niggas be accuarate |
| Be mackin the gats |
| So punk niggas evacuate the area and |
| We raid yo block in caravans |
| Strapped wit 4 Mac’s |
| Brought back from Afghanistan |
| Face it |
| Wit Millimeter in hand |
| If you ever need a friend |
| Call the heater man |
| Verse 5 *(Yukmouth)* |
| I got a AK |
| A Tre-8 |
| A Tech-9 |
| An HK |
| Uzi and a chrome 4−5 |
| Stashed outside |
| Skinny niggas don’t box |
| I sock niggas in the head wit the Glock |
| Clown they ass wit the Peppermint Snops |
| Pop Extacy an mushroom tops |
| Fuck the boon docks |
| An come to 6−500 Blocks |
| Wit a batch of rocks stashed in the boom box |
| Posted up |
| Roll the dice nigga broke it up |
| Smoke it up |
| Kryptonite like Fruit Topia |
| I twist ya cap |
| Niggas be gettin they caps twisted |
| Caught up in traps |
| Fuckin wit hood rat bitches |
| Man I mack bitches |
| Slap bitches like Pretty Tony |
| Niggas be phonier than Cubic-Zirconi |
| I make you mutha fuckas scream «I Miss My Homie» |
| (UGGGHHH!!) |
| Whip out the gun and I would FUCK yo hood |
| Now where you from niggah??? |