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Field Mob
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Pistol Grip
Lyricist:Darion Terrance Crawford, Kendall Johnson, Shawn Johnson
Nowadays girls and boys wanna lick me Her put her tongue on me, him pull his gun on me I won't let 'em get me I stay strapped In case I gotta stick her and he try to stick me So I'm packin' my magnums, in case I gotta blast one
The only time I'm leakin' out my head is when I'm sweatin' You ain't gon' have me layin' dead in my Chevy I work hard for my rings, chains and bracelet He left and came to take it, brains eroded He bled red stains in pavement His crane split slain he lay stiff, think about it
Before you make that move this be ya warning It's ready to be squeezed like an orange Bullets penetrate ya, bleed like menstruation I'ma empty out, more shells than in Run D.M.C.'s closet
I got my pistol grip on the side of me And ain't no bitch gon' catch me slippin' 'cause it ride wit me I got my heater in my lap, I'm squeezin' on my strap Try me you'll bleed, I let it rip, empty the clip Run up you'll die in the streets
I got my pistol grip on the side of me And ain't no bitch gon' catch me slippin' 'cause it ride wit me I got my heater in my lap, I'm squeezin' on my strap Try me you'll bleed, I let it rip empty the clip Run up you'll die in the streets
Shawn Jay known to rip a instrumental You can bleed like I broke pen for dissen' with a pencil Starvin' artist I paint a picture Way I touch O's everyday for me like a game of Twister
My achievement say I'm a legend Ghetto bitches be wishin' they could spend a day in my presence I'm stackin' plenty dough, I stay on cloud nine Like 2Pac in 'I Ain't Mad At Cha' video
Now start with me I'ma target ya click The scope, I got ain't the type you gargle and spit Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com It sit on top of the fifth small semi's and 4-4s Heat'll leave a enemy so cold
Thirty feet away with one eye squinted You look like the man on the fuckin' Public Enemy logo First nigga start shit Watch the tech spray a flame like a airbrush artist
I got my pistol grip on the side of me And ain't no bitch gon' catch me slippin' 'cause it ride wit me I got my heater in my lap I'm squeezin' on my strap Try me you'll bleed, I let it rip empty the clip Run up you'll die in the streets
Shit, I'll die for mine you ain't gon' take it wit ease You better go Jack Monterey for his cheese You run up on me in my 745 beamer You catch 7 shots from my 45 heater
In my lap is where the heat's kept I ride strapped and I ain't talkin' about no seat belts When I pull shoot and blast I'm aimin' at cha head To make sure you dead you better wear a bulletproof mask
It's no secret I keep the Nina, it spit soul food like sneaker cleaner I sell those pies, I tell no lies Cookies same size as Tickle-Me-Elmo's eyes You don't know no dirt, I'll put a hole through the head Of the horse of ya polo shirt like a nerd in a science fair Hang around projects, buck, when I stop by
I got my pistol grip on the side of me And ain't no bitch gon' catch me slippin' 'cause it ride wit me I got my heater in my lap I'm squeezin' on my strap Try me you'll bleed, I let it rip empty the clip Run up you'll die in the streets
I got my, pistol grip on the side of me And ain't no bitch gon catch me slippin' 'cause it ride wit me I got my heater in my lap I'm squeezin' on my strap Try me you'll bleed, I let it rip empty the clip Run up you'll die in the streets
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