Pistol Pistol

Yeah, welcome to Amityville (Detroit, nigga!)
The reason why rappers gotta pack pistols (Why is that?)

[Chorus]
Slick criminal wit, the shit I spit chews
Like a bullet came back that just missed and hit you
I say the type of shit parents slit their wrists to
Need an anthem to amp you, then this the shit to
Too many enemies on my list to sift through
Nobody got my back in this bitch but this do
Sorry officer I don't care how pissed it get you
But I don't go nowhere without my pistol pistol

Nigga, we violently active, so fuck with us
See I'm backwards, I slap niggas and punch bitches
Just for asking, they musta been wanting to meet the Lord
When my parents talked to me, they got mean mugged and ignored
They were snooping through my closet, seen drugs on the floor
Shells from the 44 scattered over they porch
Busting pistols in your windows with intentions to destroy you
Tryna break your neck to conversate? Bitch, I'll do it for you
Catch me laughing at your funeral when they lower you
You and your ho, you gots to go, bitches died slow and horrible
There's no tomorrow for any nigga we'll shower you
We young strapped and powerful and I ain't gotta lie to you

Stepped in the door, waving the 44
Blazing at po-po, escaping and lay low
They call my tongue ya-yo, but I spit fire
I lit five inside a fucking dick-rider
The clip slider, love to blast a Mag
You a fag, you love being ass to ass
Grab a gun by the nose with the butt to gat-spank ya
Never say that I'm a gangsta (Now that's gangsta)
Y'all niggas sound like Jigga but act like Pac
Yo my trigger got the flu and this gat might cough
It ain't nothing to tell, empty shells for the witness
I'm the hot nigga that's gon' put hell outta business
It won't be the same since we touching the game
Make the hardest nigga in your crew, tuck in his chain
Y'all think this shit's a game and I'm bluffing for fame?
I'll squeeze off this tec until nothing remains

[Chorus]

The only time that I'm at peace is when I'm close to one
Cause I don't know what's waiting for me when my vocals are done
Tote the gun, it's my way of life and it works
These cowardly niggas'll put your fucking life in the dirt
Cause it was wrong how they left my dog, he was priceless
Alone in the streets, bleeding, staring, laying lifeless
That's why I'm heated, you never know who starts creeping
Waking you up with AK's while you lie sleeping
I'd rather pack the heat and not need it
Rather than need one and not have it, I married this Glock-matic

You know the sound when I'm spinning round
Spitting these rounds from four pounds
While the whole crowd screaming as loud
From they mouths as they possibly allow?
Nothing is parallel to making you carousel
Aerial somersault like ferris wheels to a pair of shells
Denaun carry the nine where I go
Bullets whistle and hit you while I'm shooting at 5-0
Some semi-automatic for static's the motto
Spitting like *Columbine kids* from Colorado

[Chorus]

This nine'll turn a softy to a hard rock
It'll make Jehovah's Witnesses, think before they knock (Sorry, sorry!)
It'll make your grandmother come outta her purse
It'll make Limp Bizkit, get rid of Fred Durst
It'll make Holyfield start fighting
It'll make Mase say fuck church and go back to writing
It'll make Shyne say he sound like Biggie Smalls
It'll make R. Kelly, give respect to Aaron Hall
It'll make Christopher Reeves start walking
It'll make a dog with no voice, suddenly start barking
It'll make a nun turn to a filthy slut
It'll make the hardest pitbull, turn to a fucking mutt
It'll make a Muslim dye his hair blonde
It'll make a redneck start to read the Holy Qu'ran (Need Jesus!)
It'll make Ike stop beating Tina
It'll make Slim Shady fall back in love with Christina

[Chorus]