guns.up - clipping.

It’s over

You’re gonna love us once we dead and gone

We what the game’s been missing but we been here all along

They out there prayin' to Jesus asking «What would 'Hovah do?»

I’d die for what you love, I’d slit my fucking throat for you

Blood in, blood out

Blood on the dance floor

The Michael Jackson of this rapping, what you dancing for?

The Charlie Manson of this mansion, Marilyn Monroe

Singing «Happy Birthday» to an industry that’s full of hoes

Swiss cheesed up

When the gun cock, they freeze up

So I gun top, grabbing my cock, mean mugging the speakers

When backed into a corner, every animal attacks

You and me ain’t nothing but mammals

You and me ain’t nothing

And this rap shit ain’t nothing

Drool instead of spit

You thought you was a peach, they change you up like you’s a pit

And it’s impossible to part with partying and shit

Take three of these, don’t call me

This is the prescription, bitch

Throw your guns up

Throw your guns up

Throw your guns up if you getting ready for the

Throw your guns up

Throw your guns up

And if you’re dying, you should pump your fist and hold on

All these rappers scared

Being what they are

I run through condoms like weed smokers run through cheap cigars

I blow through weed and Swishers like tornadoes blow through houses

Disney on these hoes, shouts to all my Mickey Mouses

Little plastic coffin

Little red Corolla

Little patience for the doctor, little supernova

A funeral for stars

Everybody carry guns

Body bag is marked «Public Enemy No. 1»

Flavor of the month, I’m licking ice cream paint

She like, «You just don’t care»

Like I’m the one to fucking blame

I gotta feed these kids, they want a poster child

It’s either rapping or back to the crack and blocks gone wild

Block’s gone, I can’t go back

They don’t know me and my set

I’m out this motherfucker, Dubai on a private jet

«Private Ryan» on the screen, my captain offered dub

They tried to ground me so I joined the Mile-High Club

Throw your guns up

Throw your guns up

Throw your guns up if you getting ready for the

Throw your guns up

Throw your guns up

And if you’re dying, you should pump your fist and hold on

Work hard for this pimp cup

For the tattoos, tears, and the chains

Made a milli off a memoir, so what?

Pimping never made away with the pain

Still a nine on the dresser when I’m dressin'

Never be without a Wesson when I’m steppin'

Shoot a sucker in the chest in when he flexin'

Text back, it’s a western, leave a mess in

Round here, we shoot the messenger

Care less if a messiah or desire

Cause it ain’t no fun if the homies can’t get on my level

I’m on fire

See, the tire is y’all got all of my attire

So fly that I made a call to my supplier

He’ll fly ya

Bring the house from the sticks to the haystack

Quick, tell me who will be the sire 'sides I

I am practically super-sized

Practiced thugging since birth

Fresh kicks is a new disguise

I stay ten toes to the turf

Tell them «Shoot for the eyes»

Before they see me, I skrrt

I’m a dirty motherfucker riding dirty in the track

Until I dirty work enough to make a motherfucker hurt

Man, put hurting on them hoes

Man, put a fortune up they nose

Men know what men know

But men don’t know to get low when we slow in the rental

Your average tollbooth phantom

Clock around my neck

Cock back and I pop caps

I don’t know if they pop back

Crack it, I can’t have anybody jacking my respect

Throw your guns up

Throw your guns up

Throw your guns up if you getting ready for the

Throw your guns up

Throw your guns up

And if you’re dying, you should pump your fist and hold on