Gun Music lyrics

by

Akon


[Sample]
"You get old enough, you remember a reason why everybody wants to whack you
You believe them all, but you know somebody got to be lying
Or maybe, they're all lying
When you can't see the angles no more, you're in trouble, baby
You're in trouble"

[Hook]
Gun music, f*ck a ho, slap a foe, smoke a blunt to it
If you're a chump, turn it off, this is dump music
If you're a boss, send them n*ggas to the store to it
That old school sh*t
This is that gun music, f*ck a ho, slap a foe, smoke a blunt to it
If you're a chump, turn it down, this is thump music
If you're a boss, send them killers on a prow to it, now bow to it
This is that gun music

[Verse 1]
f*ck a hit, radio can suck a di*k
I go to MTV and 106 to buck a clip
Shoot that n*gga Terrence in his head
If he tell him "f*ck his mama" then he probably got his parent in his bed
Hardbody, flow should be illegal like a sawed shotty
Come to the Mo, you better call somebody
Slap a sissy ass n*gga cause he sissy ass
I don't need no motherf*cking reason, I'll pick his past
n*ggas be like, "why you so mad, Nickel?", shut the f*ck up
I tell the fliest b*tch in the world I'm just as stuck up
Yeah, and that's how I feel, fight me about it
Down to do time over this sh*t, write me about it
I'm ending any problems, sometimes, I even start them
I take a n*gga balls off them, leotard them
Pop go the motherf*cking weasel like a R-A-G-E in Harlem
n*gga this is that
[Hook]

[Verse 2]
You know if you murder, I'm here to see you
I got my wife and my n*gga, Kino, on pins and needles
They don't know if they gon' get that Royce caught his death call
Or that department of corrections collect call
I'm going to hell in a hand basket
I whoop a n*gga's ass good, that asswhooping is handcrafted
I rather put them triggers to you cause n*ggas will sue you
You're f*cked like I just donated my liver to you
If you ain't get that last line n*gga, drink with me
I got muscle out here, I roll around with strength with me
Yeah, your boy drinks but your boy thinks
Show up with n*ggas that's born to be what you boys can't
We're so deep in this motherf*cking club
I got you contemplating leaving your crew like Lloyd Banks
Rather it's fair or not, it you and me
And it ain't nothing between us but air and opportunity, this is that

[Hook]

[Verse 3]
My own cousin say I talk about killing too much
He talk about me talking 'bout killing too much
What the f*ck I'm supposed to talk about, world peace?
n*gga please, go somewhere and kiss your girl feet
And while you're sitting down peeing, play some R&B
I'ma be making the murder movies, staring me
This sh*t here ain't for fakes, if you ain't laid a n*gga down
That's bound to be the reason why you can't relate
Y'all n*ggas can do the hoe sh*t
While you makin songs fo my chick, I'm somewhere f*ckin yo b*tch
Somewhere over the bridge ordering squid
I'd rather call it calamari, it rhymes with Ferrari
For rent is 2600 down like an Atari
I'm sorry, on my life, I'm the life of the party
On my mama's life, I bust before
Realer than any n*gga rhyming, f*ck the flow, this is that
[Hook]
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