Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Gunz, artist - Sean Price. Album song The Best of Snowgoons, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 20.08.2015
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Babygrande
Song language: English
Gunz |
| Yeah… Peace to the god, Jus Allah |
| Doujah Raze, what up? |
| Snowgoons (Peace) |
| Boot Camp… what up? |
| German Lugers… aiyyo… |
| The god send you back to the Earth from which you came |
| Back smack Earth, wind, fire and rain |
| Elemental, the god get busy to instrumentals |
| Yeah you get busy, but that’s all in your mental |
| I sent you a note sayin', «Son, don’t rhyme» |
| You ain’t listen, in turn he got burnt with the nine |
| Here’s a gun, there’s a gun, just… everywhere's a gun |
| I guess everybody pussy, scared to shoot a fair one |
| I will Larry Holmes your dome, Shane Mosley your homey |
| Felix Trinidad your dad, duke you don’t know me |
| Riddick Bowe my ho, punch the bitch in the face |
| Run up on her like «Anna Mae, eat this cake.» |
| Eat this eight, slugs inside of your mug |
| Got the Eagle from Illegal plus I’m puffin' on drugs |
| I rap for dough, no dough, no rap |
| Freebies get VD, yo ass get «clap,» P! |
| Put a fucking bullet in your lip, swallow this |
| Put a fucking bullet in your lip, swallow this |
| Are your parents home? |
| You’re not old enough to be left alone |
| May I come in? |
| I have to use the telephone |
| So, what’s to do 'round here for fun? |
| I know, show me where dad keeps the guns |
| Look inside the barrel, I think it’s not loaded |
| Pull the trigger back, here, hold it |
| Oops, my bad, you’re fuckin' dead now, look what you did |
| A little soul, arose up out the little kid |
| Are you a bad ghost or a good ghost? |
| Man I’m bored, I gotta go now, thanks, you’ve been a good host |
| Now time to light the good smoke |
| Aww shit, I left the bag of trees in my other cloak |
| I’m tryin' to get blazed, where the fuck is Sean P and Doujah Raze? |
| Each second I’m sober is like days |
| I need the bright green haze inside my head |
| So I can laugh about your silly little child that’s dead |
| Put a fucking bullet in your lip, swallow this |
| Put a fucking bullet in your lip, swallow this |
| Take a toke, this perfect |
| When I fill my lungs with the smoke and start workin' |
| Leave the mic hurtin', murkin' on you mercenaries |
| You ain’t got no rhymes duke, searchin' through the dictionary, keep my diction |
| scary |
| Peep the visionary as I creep precision carry through the deep |
| I throw shade on your sleep, yeah |
| Come one, come all, it’s the bum rush |
| You can find your face on the floor with your lung dust |
| The fuck? |
| These mic skills are no frills |
| And I don’t need the hype of the blow and no pills |
| And I can take a flight 'cross the ocean, no bills |
| And I can keep my height through the low with no ills |
| And I can build overseas with the boom |
| Sean P., Doujah Raze, Jus Allah in the room, yeah |
| Smokin' boom, gettin' regular |
| Tryin' to get some food for the show, madness, et cetera, yeah |
| Snowgoons… DJ Illegal |
| Det… We up in Germany |
| Deutschland, muthafuckas |