Jeff Rosenthal - Sun's Out, Guns Out lyrics

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Jeff Rosenthal - Sun's Out, Guns Out lyrics

[Hook: ItsTheReal] Blocka, blocka, blocka Sun's out, guns out Blocka, blocka, blocka Sun's out, guns out [Verse 1: Jeff Rosenthal] Might not look it, but I'm always down to fight Meet you out back, no rules, just right, hardbody My arms are noodles, manicotti But I could beat up kids as long as they don't take karate You want heat? Well, I'll turn it up a notch Catch bodies like a fireman on suicide watch Skinny as a rail, but my uzis weigh a ton So I'm throwing more hands than a girl on VH1 Third base on your face: finger banging Looking for a high-five, don't leave me hanging I'm Jewish, and I pull trigs But I'm not kosher, so I'll smoke pigs Shoot a boy in blue; call it 'pop a smurf' Turn you to an ostrich; put your head in the earth I don't wanna push, so watch your f**ing manners You think I'm Clark Kent, but I'm really David Banner [Hook: ItsTheReal] Blocka, blocka, blocka Sun's out, guns out Blocka, blocka, blocka Sun's out, guns out [Verse 2: Eric Rosenthal] I take care of my girls, I'm the bird feeder But when the weather turns nice, I got a wife beater See me pumping iron in the streets, my arms are 9 millimeters You don't wanna get sprayed because I'm carrying two liters At the mall, it's going down Call it target practice, giving out pounds Any tools looking for trouble better watch their tone Homey Depot the way I carry the chrome Strapped like a baby seat in my VW van My power pellets get you ghost the way that I pack, man Attitude like Napoleon and dynamite in my hands When my llamas get to spitting, I'm like "Tina, eat your ham!" Any jokers try to step up to my camelot Watch your mouth or you'll get touched up like Photoshop I'm a socialist, free tickets to the gun show Meet my pacifists: Glock 9 and Calico! [Hook: ItsTheReal] Blocka, blocka, blocka Sun's out, guns out Blocka, blocka, blocka Sun's out, guns out [Verse 3: Freeway] Who is your rap Sampson, I can't flop, my pair's strong I can't stop, like tank tops, a pair of arms Used to set up shop on bad blocks with crack rock Now I bring fury to laptops with rap songs Neil Armstrong, all bars outer space Our arms are strong, your arms outta shape You're lightweight; I'm heavyweighted I'm like Christmas: I'm celebrated in every state (The sun is out) when we come out The girlies wanna come cause the dough never run out Unlimited bars, yeah the flow never run out When I pull the gun out, y'all better run out I'm a rap star with the heat out Might sleep with your girl, but never eat out Summertime, no doubt, arms always be out Team Early just murdered the track, now we out [Hook: ItsTheReal] Blocka, blocka, blocka Sun's out, guns out Blocka, blocka, blocka Sun's out, guns out