Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Pow Pow, artist - Tech N9ne. Album song The Gates Mixed Plate, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 26.07.2010
Record label: Strange
Song language: English
Pow Pow |
KC PD you got a buster workin' for ya |
He be yappin' to Hooters employees and alertin' employers |
Not to hang out with Tecca Nina cause some investigation |
With with a yellow Hummer I got with drugs so I’m searchin' for ya |
Shut up and eat your Hooters chicken before I bomb you |
Don’t be hatin' on me the bitches to get them on you |
I ain’t got no yellow Hummer homie that’s non true |
King of KC rappers just know that this Don Wu keep the |
(?) Pow-pow (?) Pow-pow (?) Pow-pow |
(If theres drama niggas cock it then pop it then wild out, it’s the) |
(?) Pow-pow (?) Pow-pow (?) Pow-pow |
Kutt Calhoun, mob these motherfuckers |
Killer cities, killer centerfolds and gangs and niggas snitchin' |
On the block you lose your life over the thangs that niggas grippin' |
In the kitchen that discovery will clear a niggas vision |
When he sittin' in the pen readin' 'bout everything he did |
And to the point where niggas never get to make it to preliminary |
Hearings cause of loyalty thats broken in the syndicate |
Nowadays you shoot either you kill or rep a medikit |
Insurgents don’t be caring bout a past rep a manuscript |
Thats why i keep a Russian in possession on my person |
My Kalashinkov will speak 'til our hood beat is talkin' foreign |
Your beefin' on our warrant, got no time to have my family |
Comin' to you funeral, presume you’ll just handle me |
And this is how it is, when you livin' in the Mid, killer city nickname |
Kansas City killer kid, so don’t get it confused |
Cause we get it how we spit it all raw and uncut battle |
Width for any with it, when we trip and it’s |
(?) Pow-pow (?) Pow-pow (?) Pow-pow |
(If theres drama niggas cock it then pop it (?) it’s the) |
(?) Pow-pow (?) Pow-pow (?) Pow-pow |
(Ain't from around here know you about it to slide out) |
Tay Diggs, let 'em have it |
Yeah we runnin' the crime rate |
Catch me on the E-way doin' a pill with the gun spray |
Y’all fucks with Tech N9ne and claps shit to the gun pray |
It’s back to the checks more baggies and more K |
We hella old niggas hittin' mall (?) from mall way |
I’m on plate, I’m rappin' for a reason |
Clappin' for no reason I just love the desert eagles |
And I’m fuckin' with the mags i just love to plug my peoples |
These suckers ain’t my evil, we live life fast |
And they try to tell me stop, but all we know is gas |
No brakes so catch me on the crip side |
Right up on the street, likes cannon on my hip side |
I’m G maggin' and my young life’s maney |
Do whatever for the dough and we smokin' on grates |
Reload that thing and I’ll make y’all a shake |
For the mob and do the job and I fucks to survive, nigga |
(?) Pow-pow (?) Pow-pow (?) Pow-pow |
(If theres drama niggas cock it then pop it (?) it’s the) |
(?) Pow-pow (?) Pow-pow (?) Pow-pow |
(Ain't from around here know you about it to slide out) |
(Riv Locc, get 'em) |
Rollin a cigar full of ooey |
My kush the hottest selling since Avatar hit the movies |
Clappin at your car with a sooey i go hard tho |
Sick of the dude i saw one two three and four |
It’s Kansas City fuck who yall rep for |
My guys is more alive then the que dog step shows |
So give me a break like when the que ball let go |
With a blue rag wrapped tight around my head low |
Ready for what ever with my weather livin fare tho |
I want my pocket knotted like the rosta man dreads bro |
Press the button watch the little homie dome split |
Flippin out the clup droppin to my patron in he |
The chrome semi’ll break every single bone in ya |
No Lambo ??? |
im dome in ya |
Its Riv Locc respect cuz when ya pull up |
You gonna hear 2 pops followed by a humongous sound |
(Mon. E.G., kill this player hatin' niggas) |
Yes, Sir! |
We be like fuck em locate em and watch me slump em |
But my niggas be trippin in case you wonder we doin this for the |
Block only fuck with headshots been fuckin with tecca nina light |
Years before Pac |
Switch gears through slow pause |
Im in love with the beef my ?? |
gotta eat em on the mound no releif |
Throwin pitch after pitch till mothafuckin biff you know exactly |
What it is utilize my gift |
Mon EG the Ghostwriter breathe in breathe out im a killa city |
Legand you know im reppin the south you can ask Ricky Ross |
You can ask Tripple C |
Put your ear to the street wait im no ?? |
With the payton go no huddle |
Butthead like Beavis shut down like Revis mo drama make sure my |
Team goes undefeated pull up and go |