J.R. Writer - Riot Pump lyrics

rate me

Uh, riot pump, riot pump

Uh, riot pump

Uh, let's get this shit crackin' man

Yo

Verse 1:

This that gun in the spine (spine)

This that one of a kind (kind)

This that get out the way, straight to the front of the line

If they front on the line, then pull the bouncer aside (come here)

Tell him to be happy he's even around or alive (be happy)

Like “Look pal, you decide, you get me up in for sure” (What)

Or listen, 10 minutes I'll be bumrushin' the door (Move)

He won't front anymore, get in pass wit' a frown

Like you bastards is clowns, know you ain't pattin' me down

Shit, look here, I'm a star (star)

I don't care who you are

Push your way through, move, tear up the bar (Get out my way)

Snatch a bottle, crack and gargle, mack a model

Tell the bartender you're dead, that's how I do

Then grab on a slut, ask her to smut

Put alcohol on her like a barber after a cut

Yup (Yup)

No smoke then inhale the smoke ‘til you choke

Walk through the VIP, knock down the velvet rope

Foreman the place, your dog is a 8

To plex the pest, and A-Town Stomp wit' his face, holla

Hook:

Clap ya thing, act insane, riot pump

Snatch a chain, slap a dame, riot pump

This that time for crunk, try to punk

How you want, body slumped by the dump

Let me see you riot pump

(Repeat)

Verse 2:

Listen dog, I'm a vet' (vet')

Show the boss some respect

If you glittering nigga (what)

Then it's off wit' ya neck (come here)

I'm a boss on the Set

That'll let off with the Tech

Pushes that soft off of some steps

Better yet, torture to death (Whoa)

Punk even try it, slugs'll get fired

Dump on the chump and make his car slump to the tire (tires)

The whole jumper get quiet

Fire once, fuck a riot pump dog

I'ma bring the pump to the riot (Bang)

Porsche skip through, toss missiles

Bring the war to the war

For through your gore

Smell what the door sizzle

You're soft tissue

You don't know what it feels for a cop to horse-kick you

Straight up toss, flip you

Mace in your face, left when the shotty ring

Spray up the place, left in a body sling

Laced up in lace, yes, with some body string

Leave you facin' ya face messed up like Rodney King's

Hook

Verse 3:

Yo, is it a game, nope (nope)

We got aim scopes (scopes)

The last head frontin' with bread became toast

We run right into clubs, snub under the raincoat

Shoot a cat for his chain and call it chain-smoke

Fuck with J you gon' pay

Make the stray hit the spray

You will stay where you stay

Ay you'll lay where you may

With the A to the K, run in a DJ booth

You gon' play what you play

No, you gon' play what I say

Play, or fine, get that gun, it's fine

I'll bet he stop and play Stop-N-Go 100 times

Not the talkin' type, I done been all my life

So after rap, scrap, let's see you start a fight

Got guns, go get ‘em, got sons, go get ‘em

Chump, if ya mans wanna run, go wit' him

Cuz if I don't let the gun blow hit ‘em (What)

I'ma throw his ass in a mud hole and stomp a mudhole in him, holla

Hook