Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Still Got My Gun, artist - Slaine. Date of issue: 31.10.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Still Got My Gun |
| Square peg in a round hole |
| I learned to do my dirt on the down low |
| Had to make some moves that would sound bold |
| But in that same dirt, I had found gold |
| So they label me a scoundrel |
| Guess I had a ruffle a couple feathers on my way up |
| But I’m a hustler |
| I didn’t give a fuck if I gotta harm ya or muscle ya |
| I been armed with the tools that we use in the trade of a renegade |
| Thrive in a game, you’re not able to penetrate |
| I’m not the same as you, I’m tried and true |
| This is something I died to do |
| Part of learning how to fly |
| Eventually, you hit the ground, crashin' |
| But at the bottom of the pain |
| I had found passion |
| Though I been gone for a minute |
| Now I’m back in it |
| We either overcome the past or get trapped in it |
| There’s a lot of things in life I know |
| We can go up so high and low |
| A lot of things I left behind that I once called mine |
| But I still got my gun |
| My gun, my gun |
| I still got my gun |
| Violently designed like the Trolls of Asgard |
| Silencers the size of a grown man’s arm |
| Listen, the scope pivot like a cyclops |
| Chrome so heavy the shooter had to use a tripod (Bong!) |
| The pistol long like a pool stick |
| Hammer hit the hollow like a baby in the womb kick |
| Listen, visual verb, missile swerve, hit your herbs |
| Feel the pistol burn, hit you like a whistling bird |
| All it take is half a shotty for half your body to fly a half a block at your |
| fuckin' block party |
| Pussy, your every word have a period |
| Your album comes with a free bo of tampons for serious |
| My lyricism’s the littyiest |
| Carry the torch for Brooklyn like Sean P and Biggie did |
| My demographic be Henny and Acid |
| My algorithms are savage and my religion is madness |
| There’s a lot of things in life I know |
| We can go up so high and low |
| A lot of things I left behind that I once called mine |
| But I still got my gun |
| My gun, my gun |
| I still got my gun |
| Boko Haram, stay calm, strapped with a bomb |
| Behind the mask of God, he can trap the divine |
| I got numbers and statistics, it’s a matter of time |
| Imma hit him with the .50 paw, Shaq at the line |
| And them fiends lined up, they be pacin' for days |
| Had a yopper put a hole inside his cranial cave |
| How the fuck you gon' walk into a maze in a daze |
| Muthafuckas being deviant and say it’s a phase |
| This ain’t fun and games over here, we make money |
| And y’all is always gon' be second like Chase Utley |
| This muthafucka think he the wolf, he the same puppy |
| It’s the same mask, same .45, and the same Duffy |
| You are goofy homie, we was never meant to be cool |
| I was taking people’s shit in elementary school |
| Feel it with both hands paw, read it in braille |
| And the whopper always with me homie, Kenan and Kel |
| Toma! |
| There’s a lot of things in life I know |
| We can go up so high and low |
| A lot of things I left behind that I once called mine |
| But I still got my gun |
| My gun, my gun |
| I still got my gun |