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