Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Gun Music, artist - Royce 5'9. Album song Bar Exam 2, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 15.09.2008
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: MIC, One
Song language: English
Gun Music |
«You get old enough, you remember a reason why everybody wants to whack you |
You believe them all, but you know somebody got to be lying |
Or maybe, they’re all lying |
When you can’t see the angles no more, you’re in trouble, baby |
You’re in trouble» |
Gun music, fuck a ho, slap a foe, smoke a blunt to it |
If you’re a chump, turn it off, this is dump music |
If you’re a boss, send them niggas to the store to it |
That old school shit |
This is that gun music, fuck a ho, slap a foe, smoke a blunt to it |
If you’re a chump, turn it down, this is thump music |
If you’re a boss, send them killers on a prow to it, now bow to it |
This is that gun music |
Fuck a hit, radio can suck a dick |
I go to MTV and 106 to buck a clip |
Shoot that nigga Terrence in his head |
If he tell him «fuck his mama» then he probably got his parent in his bed |
Hardbody, flow should be illegal like a sawed shotty |
Come to the Mo, you better call somebody |
Slap a sissy ass nigga cause he sissy ass |
I don’t need no motherfucking reason, I’ll pick his past |
Niggas be like, «why you so mad, Nickel?», shut the fuck up |
I tell the fliest bitch in the world I’m just as stuck up |
Yeah, and that’s how I feel, fight me about it |
Down to do time over this shit, write me about it |
I’m ending any problems, sometimes, I even start them |
I take a nigga balls off them, leotard them |
Pop go the motherfucking weasel like a R-A-G-E in Harlem |
Nigga this is that |
You know if you murder, I’m here to see you |
I got my wife and my nigga, Kino, on pins and needles |
They don’t know if they gon' get that Royce caught his death call |
Or that department of corrections collect call |
I’m going to hell in a hand basket |
I whoop a nigga’s ass good, that asswhooping is handcrafted |
I rather put them triggers to you cause niggas will sue you |
You’re fucked like I just donated my liver to you |
If you ain’t get that last line nigga, drink with me |
I got muscle out here, I roll around with strength with me |
Yeah, your boy drinks but your boy thinks |
Show up with niggas that’s born to be what you boys can’t |
We’re so deep in this motherfucking club |
I got you contemplating leaving your crew like Lloyd Banks |
Rather it’s fair or not, it you and me |
And it ain’t nothing between us but air and opportunity, this is that |
My own cousin say I talk about killing too much |
He talk about me talking 'bout killing too much |
What the fuck I’m supposed to talk about, world peace? |
Nigga please, go somewhere and kiss your girl feet |
And while you’re sitting down peeing, play some R&B |
I’ma be making the murder movies, staring me |
This shit here ain’t for fakes, if you ain’t laid a nigga down |
That’s bound to be the reason why you can’t relate |
Y’all niggas can do the hoe shit |
While you makin songs fo my chick, I’m somewhere fuckin yo bitch |
Somewhere over the bridge ordering squid |
I’d rather call it calamari, it rhymes with Ferrari |
For rent is 2600 down like an Atari |
I’m sorry, on my life, I’m the life of the party |
On my mama’s life, I bust before |
Realer than any nigga rhyming, fuck the flow, this is that |