Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Artillery, artist - Tod NittyDate of issue: 31.12.2010
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Artillery |
| Restraint! |
| Artilerry motherfucker, legit balling bitch but don’t get it twisted |
| Ain’t no hoes over here |
| Yeah, we got guns nigga, aimed at all you hating bitches |
| From K-Town to the Manor, Holy City to the Wild Hundreds |
| The war is on, and all my killers is riding |
| Todd Nitty, what you got for these hoes (click…clock…blast) |
| (Todd Nitty) |
| I got that 9 double M Glock, with the infrared beam dot |
| Aiming at your knot, making your heart stop |
| Yelling out «Fuck Tha Po» who some call it 5−0 |
| Better look out for when they pull that kick door |
| Nothing but gangstas, thats all who I hang with |
| Slanging them thangs with, came up in the game with |
| The fucking hood rats, because them some broke hoes |
| Me get a rich bitch and stick her for her dough |
| The Manor in that K-Town, thats how we put it down |
| Letting off fifty rounds, thats how our shit sound |
| Artillery up the ass, scullies and ski masks |
| 9's and bubble masks, gunning at your ass |
| Motherfucking street thugs, legit ballers |
| Money and the power, moving that flour |
| Taking no shorts and taking no losses |
| Hauling niggas asses off in coffins with that. |
| Hook |
| One, two, three, 45.'s |
| Six, seven, eight, nine milli-meter |
| Ten, eleven, twelve gauge pump nigga (4x) |
| A nigga riding with stealers, hustlers, killers all my life |
| Legit Ballers bitch, don’t even try to fuck with us gangsta’s |
| Because we some mobstas |
| You come with that bullshit, then pussy I’ll pop ya' |
| See it’s that nigga Todd Nitty, that be squeezing triggers like bitches |
| Titties |
| Who is it, the most left on nigga, they crept on nigga, with that teflon nigga |
| And it went BLOW! |
| BLOW! |
| body bag that bitch |
| Sent his ass to the morgue with the rest of them snitches |
| I heat 'em up like a motherfucking Newport |
| Left his ass with more holes than a golf course |
| What you thought boy, I’m from that 9th Ward |
| Where them stories are true about them Manor boys |
| How we leaving 'em, bleedin' and crawling on the ground |
| Like he’s a dead nigga now |
| Hook |
| I got that love for my nigga Twist, for aid and assistance |
| He told me holsters, caught him up in some bullshit |
| Don’t even trips though, I’m heading in your route |
| Soon as I roll up, we puttin' they lights out |
| Poppin' a clip in, with one in the chamber |
| (Twista) |
| Finna' ride on a stranger, put the hoes life in danger |
| (Todd Nitty) |
| Started letting off hollows, straight through they car door |
| (Twista) |
| I’m a G from Chicago, pull the game weightless where I go |
| (Todd Nitty) |
| Bustin' pistols with laser injects, putting holes in they Avarex |
| (Twista) |
| Going straight through your tailored vests, now it’s you or your neighbor next |
| (Todd Nitty) |
| Now we got your boy tied up, to the hideout we ride up |
| (Twista) |
| They gonna show us the stash-pot, with the little handles side up |
| (Todd Nitty) |
| Took the money and lello, and thats hwo the day goes |
| (Twista) |
| Get the bankroll, gotta gank hoes, and I got the 44 |
| Time to leave finna' go |
| Hit 'em with that… |
| Hook |