Snowgoons - Git Cha Gully Up lyrics
rate meI'm in the pitch black with midnight marauder
Play it low but I will kidnap your daughter
I take what's mine, I don't wait around for any offers
Fresh off a world tour like I just ran for office
I'm on some Jedi Mind shit, this is brain slaughter
Insane author, publisher and paint torture
Never be a ghost, remain in my physical form
Go to war with anybody, this is Desert Storm
You never catch me talking shit on a message forum
But if your man got words I got a message for him
Official pistol lifts you, slip yo, rip through bone tissue
Twist you, separate your fucking nerves when the chrome hits you
So if you got grown issues then state your biz
You got beef? Then claim it, don't say that it's his
You got faith in God? Then pray that you live
You like to walk with the Devil? Then
You pick your poison, I'll sip a potion and spit an ocean
Keep your neck inside my palm and watch me rip it open
You bitches hoping the barrel smoking will get me choking
But I'm a goon by blood, that shit'll get me focused
If you insane in the membrane waving an M16 with a beam
Get your money up
If you got beef and reach where you eat and you sleep
Niggas deep when they creep
Get your gully up
If you a soldier, a rider provider, and ride for the cause, you the boss
Get your money up
If you're insane full of rage with a gauge still trapped in a cage all day
Get your gully up
If I push snow at the Snowgoons it wouldn't be illegal
Would Illegal come through with more goons and the Desert Eagles
My people be shovelling bodies right up off the sidewalk
All of the above my nigga, let's get these
Never the type to see beef and slide off
Only happened once, they tried to cut my life short
But now I'm thirty-one with a dirty gun
Four kids deep, I dare you niggas to hurt just one
One is enough to get your cranium cracked
I bulldoze like? range with a bat
I came for the cash and I ain't leaving broke now
My gasmask is made of glass bitch I'm focused now
Warchild more foul, I'm caving your gums in
More wild Trojan Horse style, trample gunmen
Nigga and my dungeon filthy
In a courtroom with a pitchfork and a spoon
Feasting off all the blood that was
Orbit the moon, I'm
Cremating your soul, hope they choke off the fumes
