Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Let Dem Guns Blam , by - Waka Flocka Flame. Release date: 07.06.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Let Dem Guns Blam |
| I’m too drunk, I’m too high to hear that fuck shit |
| Came to the club, yeah, I’m on that fuck shit |
| Let them things blam, let them things blam |
| Let them things blam, let them things blam |
| I’m too fucked up, too turnt up I’m on fuck shit |
| Let them things blam, let them things blam |
| My chopper filled up, let them things blam |
| My handguns got extendos, let them things blam |
| I’m from Riverdale, full of young niggas |
| Ain’t no OGs, just some young niggas |
| Gangbangin', Sellin' weed |
| Shootouts, and some ecstasy |
| Them boys gone, them boys crazy, most have lost their mind |
| Whole clique strapped up, fuck one time |
| Above the law, hey my nigga, I’m on my grind |
| Afraid of the dark, so I’m forced to shine |
| Let them guns blam, bitch, you know I am |
| I go Kanye, Jay-Z H.A.M., this the Summer of Sam |
| Let them guns blam (Flocka) |
| Let them guns blam (Flocka) |
| Let them guns blam (Flocka) |
| Let them guns blam (Flocka) |
| Friends turned to enemies, enemies turned to friends |
| Eat you like some busy bees, kill you and your best friend |
| Let them guns blam (bow) |
| Let them guns blam (bow) |
| Let them guns blam (bow) |
| Let them guns blam (bow) |
| Too turnt up on my block |
| Middle finger to the law, fuck a cop |
| Real nigga till my heart stop |
| That K will make your body rock |
| Won’t stop 'til I see a body drop |
| Fuck 'round, get mollywhopped |
| Leave my shawty off the top |
| I’m about a check |
| See my young niggas love to flex |
| Strapped up with that tech |
| Want beef, no talking, shawty that’s a bet |
| Live with no regrets, where you from shawty throw up your set |
| Heard a nigga want me dead, got a check on my head but I got too much respect |
| Pride, dignity, while you’re hating on me I’m making history |
| Waka goin' broke boy shittin' me |
| Throw money on a bitch, ain’t shit to me |
| Let them guns blam, let them guns blam |
| This a 44 bulldog it cannot jam |
| My friends turn to my enemies, my enemies turn friends |
| Ain’t talkin' about no pills nigga, we slide around with extends |
| I’m ridin' 'round in this Benz |
| 50 rounds in this mac |
| I put a price on your head and they gone gun you down for them racks |
| Y’all niggas ain’t totin' no straps |
| Y’all niggas don’t want no war |
| Y’all niggas don’t want my goons |
| Hangin' 'round by your front door |
| But that hot shit, cause you pop shit |
| Runnin' 'round like you got shit |
| Had my niggas all in your crib |
| Cause you runnin' 'round like you got bricks |
| Most niggas die cause they switch sides |
| And do dumb shit when they get high |
| Cross me, it won’t get by |
| Try to play it cool, and you’ll get fried |
| All the real niggas on this side |
| Niggas shoot like Dirk do |
| Every nigga that’s 'round me get real money and murk too |