Bang Bang lyrics

by

Styles P


[Hook: Masspike Miles]
I put the "b" in "banger"
Used to getting money
Now you know I'm no stranger to the hustle
I'm strapped up like a raider from the tomb
Force with my platoon
I do sh*t you boys don't do
I'm known in the streets as a n*gga that done did it
Put infrared beams on your fitted
Trust me, you can get it
n*gga, you can get it
Throw the handle back and watch the motherf*cker bang, bang, bang

[Verse 1: Cassidy]
Yes
If I'm not the best, n*gga, then I got next
Cause I talk that sh*t like a n*gga with hot breath
You n*ggas not threats, them things'll bang in
Things could change if you never got shot yet
I'm quick to bust, like a man that never got sex
But you don't get the message, like a blind man that got text
I used to love to box, until I shot Tecs
Now I never brawl, like a broad that ain't got breasts
I'm not press, I don't wanna talk
Man, my motherf*cking gun'll spark and make a n*gga somersault
I'll shoot the damn thing and make a n*gga handspring
Or I'll spark steel and make a n*gga cartwheel
Matter of fact, clap the gat, turn him to an acrobat
Have the cat flip around before I put the pistol down
Your lame mouth which you better keep my name out
I ain't in a gang, I don't bang, I just banged out
[Hook]

[Verse 2: Styles P]
I'm back out riding
Gun at your head, bullet the center like Bonham
Shotgun with the shotgun seat reclining
I pop up on n*ggas
Let it off, close shop up on n*ggas
Infection, stay in the cut on n*ggas
I'm in a whole nother section
I could look in the mirror, my reflection
Moves like Inception
Extraordinary gentleman, what more could I say?
Got the picture in the cut, like Dorian Gray
I'm a shooter like Allan Quartermain, I give you more than pain
First page in the hard n*gga Hall of Fame
Duane Darock on the beat
SP the Ghost, I make it pop on the streets
Probably in the spot for a week
One eye open, with the Glock on a sleeve

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Chubby Jag]
I let the thing blam, they call me the Rain Man
I'm out of bullets, get 'em hung, n*gga, Hang Man
You get me, hang it up; there's problems, I flame it up
Bang it up, snap back, long t, banger tucked
Yup, my block pitching, yeah I got pigeons
I'm into cooking, I f*ck with b*tches that got kitchens
If I can't find Jordan, then I'll rob Pippen
I leave 'em bloody and skin red, like Rob Griffin
Home real spit, the shotty blast, you gon' see the body bags
Men in black, no Will Smith
Real sh*t, used to grind and we still grind
Beefing with the grill time, full metal, steel time
n*ggas getting stole on trying to steal mine
c*ck pack, peel mine
Tape 'em up, real time
Jump you, the mask on and Berettas bang
Sound clear, holmes? Out here, we gonna let it bang
[Hook]
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