| These sounds ain’t no warning shots when that gun bark
|
| .50 Cal, lightning and thunder, you hear that gun spark
|
| Pussy niggas playing me close, don’t get your son chalked
|
| Pussy niggas doing the most, don’t get your lung hawked
|
| Niggas want war, scope on a rifle aimed at your front door
|
| I don’t need no safety I got one hell of a front for
|
| Done for, hit 'em and roll up like what you front for
|
| Dump more like I got gift cards to the gun store
|
| Pussy nigga tryna lose nine lives for one whore
|
| Outta ammo, I pistol whip him 'til I break son jaw
|
| Shoulda asked your lil man’s 'bout me, they tell you some raw
|
| Made a 100k on the road and ain’t been on one tour
|
| Crossfit, fuck around get hit with the crossbow
|
| Lost soul, bullets’ll hit you, rip up your torso
|
| Sloppy nigga, nerve of these coppers to try and copy niggas
|
| Missed my last show, I got caught up meeting with papi, nigga
|
| Lock a nigga, I’ll pop you nigga, your only option nigga
|
| These niggas can’t hold me back
|
| Trust me it ain’t no stopping, nigga
|
| Pull up waving that chopper, nigga
|
| Turn a phantom to the opera, nigga
|
| Big strap, no kickback, that clip tote as he pop a nigga
|
| Run New York like Sinatra nigga, got a chip on my shoulder
|
| Big as the sun but it ain’t as big as my gun
|
| Brought a knife to a fight, I brought a stick with a drum
|
| Black Market, Out The Mud, we built this shit from the crumbs
|
| Team strong, shoot with precision or get the beam on
|
| Beam Jawn, Tech with the Fanta, I get my bream on
|
| Joe Clark, hollow’ll hit him and get his neen on
|
| Say you in the gym but I heard you getting your fiend on
|
| Ease up, when I yell Eastside they throw B’s up
|
| Duck him in his mouth then I stomp him until he seize up
|
| Try me nigga, please put your G’s up, put your cheese up
|
| I’ma take his head off his shoulders though if he freeze up
|
| No rules, I ain’t got no rafe or no jewels
|
| But I got shooters with no heart and no screws
|
| Hoes choose, we ain’t choosing 'em, that’s that duck shit
|
| No chill, all my niggas been on that fuck shit
|
| Buckshots, one don’t kill him, he on some luck shit
|
| Ten more, hit him and knock him all out his Trukfit
|
| Past due, I don’t make nothing that you could dab too
|
| Gangster shit, this that music niggas get stabbed too
|
| Ain’t wanna rap in months, but fuck it nigga I had too
|
| So I could make the shit that these niggas cook up and bag too
|
| Heavy in the streets, see Hunnit Round ain’t no peon
|
| Any block I think I see money I put some D on
|
| Intercept the pack and I bring it back like I’m Deon
|
| Got two birds in that Neon, my blood colder than freon
|
| Think you fucking with me lil nigga than throw a Ki on
|
| Even if I die they gon' bump my shit for a eon
|
| All that type-a shit that you niggas on, know that we on
|
| Take your head off for a trophy, feel like I’m Cleon
|
| Hunnit Round Hef, DB8, you know what we on
|
| Hottest young nigga in rap, nigga the phenom
|
| These sounds ain’t no warning shots when that gun bark
|
| .50 Cal, lightning and thunder, you hear that gun spark
|
| Pussy niggas playing me close, don’t get your son chalked
|
| Pussy niggas doing the most, don’t get your lung hawked |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Warning Shots , by - Sha Hef. Song from the album Krime Pays, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп