Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song M-16 , by - Z-Ro. Song from the album Power, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 07.09.2010
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: World Tech
Song language: English
M-16 |
| M-16, I’m reloading my magazine |
| And I will murder, every bumper clot run |
| Keep my hand, on my gun |
| Whooooa |
| Don’t worry, the Hogg gon get it cracking round here |
| And I know I’m talking loud enough, for all y’all to hear |
| This H-Town Texas, we ain’t breeding no homos |
| Get a banger to you matrix style, trick in slow-mo |
| I’m the gun range stayer, 45 payer |
| No question where I’m from, cause I’m a Southside Playa |
| Got juice by the gallo', earvoes by the layer |
| Rubberband every thou', 3rd Ward youngest Mayor |
| Extended clips extra drums, for the K and the calico |
| Catch bag for the A-R, wet up your whole car |
| You talking like you want it, but you really don’t want war |
| It’s reg baby, in battlefield go |
| I’m out on two bonds, and parole don’t know |
| So have your heart right trick, when you stepping to Mike D |
| I’ma b-braid your hair, then reload the magazine |
| Hit you with sixteen, then flee the murder scene |
| Now of the situation get sticky, I got this nigga playing thirty eight |
| A snub nose, that’ll increase the murder rate |
| I heard they hating on a nigga, but I’m use to em |
| I sent this message by this bitch, to break the news to him |
| That y’all done fucked, with the wrong one |
| I got short patience, and a long gun |
| And I don’t talk shit, I spark’s it and I bust brains |
| And I don’t play, no fucking games |
| Nigga I could make it happen, while you popping that shit |
| Squeeze a trigga, till ery’body drop in this bitch |
| Ain’t no stopping this shit, once it get’s to jumping |
| You get my heart pumping, the adrenaline pumping |
| I see me dumping, on motherfuckers |
| Empty the clip, and get to stomping a motherfucker |
| And I won’t be disrespected, by none of these youngsters |
| I got my hand I got pass, I got a trunk bitch a liver pump |
| Is it me Glock 40, pump-pump-pump-pump nope |
| Is it me 45, pump-pump-pump-pump nope |
| Is it me 3−57, pump-pump-pump-pump nope |
| Me M16, taping off the murder scene |
| Inhaling potent doja, with muddy cup of codeine |
| Me people don’t even play me close, cause them don’t know me |
| Me don’t want no company, me kick it with me lonely |
| And will murder anyone of you snitches, run up on me |
| But my grandmother didn’t raise a killer, she raised up a Christian |
| But the fact that I was already down, and people kept kicking |
| Made me crazy, that’s why I got no love for nobody lately |
| And I told y’all once before, none of my weapons have a safety |
| Ru-run up on me once, I’ma beat your ass down |
| Ru-run up on me twice, I’ma heat your ass down |
| Place you in another dimension, nobody can see you now |
| Rest in peace, I’m the king of the streets yeah |