METH-GHOST-RAE - Gunshowers lyrics

rate me

Another day, another dollar

I got mines, ain't got nothing to father

Fuck a role model, never had one to follow

Lot of cotton mouth rappers, I'm a hard one to swallow

Here's another hard one to goggle, fuck your life, that's the motto

I'm nice with mics, Cus D'Amato

Drug related, blunt guts all up in your condo

Hate a noisy woman, why you all up in my convo

Let me hold something, look at you killas, like you owe something

Stole something, give me my paper, 'fore I blow something

Right now, give me my fucking shit, chicka-blaow

I want it right now, give me my fucking shit, chicka-blaow

Shady niggas hiding the loot, you see my baby needs shoes

And the record label trynna recoupe

I want it right now, give me my fucking shit, chicka-blaow

And I mean right now, give me my fucking shit, chicka-blaow

Gun battles, so many chains on the neck

Hands and feet, niggas say I'm Shaq

Sky blue, terry cloth, low pullover

Hit ten like a 2010 new Hova

Movies on, never ran it, call me a don

Been shitting everywhere, cause niggas can't stand it

Terminate faggots who violate us a square

Goon therapy, S.I., we don't fight fair

Beef? We can get it on, right here

And that includes ya'll low niggas wearing tight gear

Sun God, and that's your target, aim right there

My money long and green like Buzz Lightyear

I'm all right here, the way I move the blow

Fuck a show, you would think it was an all white affair

Been fuego, more fire here, then you seen me

Getting money off the water like a pall bearer there

No Newports, Marlboro's here, go smoke that

The smoke in your face, bitch, I ain't never cared

Get shot down when the Ghost smell fear, let me hold something

Look in your face like you owe something

I'm playing for the 'bucks' like Hakeem Warrick

Nickel bag in the park, my team on it

They want it like that and the street, is dry as a well

Hell, that's why I sell crack on the beat

I ain't trynna just happen to eat, I'm a make a nigga dance

Even if I got to clap in the street

This is something like lock up, murder behind bars

A warrior, my story defined by my scars

Seven thirty verbal, my word work circle

You a jerk, fool, I burn you like your birdds do