Luyện nghe bài hát Pistol Pistol

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

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

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

Stepped in the door, the 44
Blazing at po-po, and lay low
call my tongue ya-yo, but I spit fire
I lit five inside a dick-rider
The clip slider, to blast a Mag
You a fag, you love ass to ass
a gun by the nose with the butt to gat-spank ya
Never say that I'm a gangsta (Now gangsta)
Y'all niggas sound like but act like Pac
Yo my trigger got the flu and this gat might
It nothing to tell, empty shells for the witness
I'm the hot nigga that's gon' put hell business
It be the same since we touching the game
Make the hardest in your crew, tuck in his chain
Y'all think this shit's a game and I'm for fame?
I'll squeeze off this tec nothing remains

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

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

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