Luyện nghe bài hát Pistol Pistol

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

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

Nigga, we violently active, so fuck us
See I'm backwards, I slap niggas and bitches
for asking, they musta been wanting to meet the Lord
When my parents talked to me, they got mean and ignored
were snooping through my closet, seen drugs on the floor
Shells from the 44 scattered they porch
Busting pistols in your windows intentions to destroy you
Tryna break your neck to Bitch, I'll do it for you
Catch me laughing at your funeral they lower you
You and your ho, you gots to go, bitches slow and horrible
There's no tomorrow for any we'll shower you
We young strapped and powerful and I gotta lie to you

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

The only time that I'm at is when I'm close to one
Cause I don't know what's for me when my vocals are done
Tote the gun, it's my way of and it works
These cowardly niggas'll put your fucking life in the
it was wrong how they left my dog, he was priceless
Alone in the streets, bleeding, staring, laying
That's why I'm heated, you know who starts creeping
Waking you up with AK's while you lie
I'd rather pack the and not need it
Rather than need one and not it, I married this Glock-matic

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

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