Buckshot - W.M.D. lyrics

[Sean Price] Yo, two-two-two, five thirty-two, thirty-eight Four-four-four, five, increase the murder rate Great, sh** can vertebrae, f** up your backbone Snatch ya backpack, n***a, f** up your wack poems You can't rap, slap his natch with the black chrome This whipping was a warning, so take your a** back home n***a, see I pop sh** with the same kinda guns that T.I. got knocked with Extra clip carrier, quick to click burry ya Both talk tough, but b**h, I'mma bit scarier Uh, Rambo guns, Commando guns Catch you at the beach, will heat up your sandals, son f** with a vet, best believe you f** with the best Put a slug in the revolver that'll f** up your flesh Put a slug in the revolver and play Russian Roulette f** it, I try, I do it, f** if you die Ruck, is the, luckiest f**er alive I went from nothing to something a couple of times [Tek] I got a gun with a nozzle pump, co*k back, we dump Lift ya, who said white men can't jump I know, dead men talk cuz n***as get caught But if ya, body a juror then a k**a gon' talk Do ya biddy bop to the block, goodbye to your tail sh**ty city cops, 50 shots, I am Sean Bell Semi auto four, leave your head looking real gory Be a ghost before Halloween, that's true story That I blink like a transporter moving your order Quarterback spiral like bullets hit your autora We ain't here to warn 'em, bring the water trigger, we squeezin' Twenty minute shootouts, clip empty we leaving When I jump in the porsche, hop in the charger Fans can't catch the boy, I'm an artful dodger You know who in charge, get your whole team washed Then go in and buy guns with the money from these bars [Steele] Yeah, the flow rapper, forties and automatic Arm tatted, chron' addict, it's on when the God rapping The dog grabbing, my paws, palming the double action Pump blasting, punk ba*tards, slump backwards Rap mastered, got cash? They all plastic Since graphics, all of my cons, all savage Lord of War, Nicholas Cage, sick cannons Spit talents, til we the last Clik standing Timbs branded, scuffed up from kicking a**es Bucktown, we shoot first, then ask questions This is my gun, this is my weapon This is for fun, this is for sending n***as to heaven Sing 'em a sermon, I heard somebody needed a reverend Heard he was telling, the bird, he sent a word to my brethren Parabellum to the back of your melon You want the rest? See the news at eleven [Rock] It go nine millimeter, mack 10, mack 11, twelve gauge Have your monkey maggot a** on channel seven Telling like, they shooting, that just how we making you Duck Down This go round, what up now? He said, what, now? You the old mattress bout to get drugged out Like me, I'm so addictive, I'm the newest drug out With guns out, ignorant birds, we dumb foul Run out of shells and you ingrown hairs get plucked out Get smacked with a cap, I'm Kung Lao Rock a pocket rocket, put a drop top on Run's house I ain't talking bout horizons when I say 'sun down' Son, down! down for the count, it was just for one round Give me two of those gats that Bruno had On Pluto now, and only on them who hold gat Ain't that false advertisement? I should sue those f*gs I'm just playing, you know that! f** around these days, these dirty DA's'll do your raps Not guilty, but I do know gats, think about it like Seriously... is it true or all raps When I say I put a hole the size of my boot in your back