LS_XXXX - AK-47 lyrics

[Hook: $ha Hef] That AK-47 make him sh** his pants Them bullets ricocheted and they gon' hit ya mans And if I make the call then they gon' hit ya fam My n***a that's your b**h, then why she whipping grams [Verse 1: $ha Hef] I heard you n***as getting bread, I got that bu*ter man That chopper st-st-stutter man, just like the dutter man The rubber band man, wild as the Tabliban 9 in my Caravan, c**aine avalanche That boy dead, ain't no need to call an ambulance I hit him with the bat and ram, he did the hammer dance Still getting money, move it hand to hand Revolvers never jam, popping Xannies in a candy-land The candyman, sipping that purple rain My life is perfect, was birthed on a turf when I earned my stain Put the work on the flame, smell the burnt c**aine Watch 'em search for veins, selling Kurt Cobain Yeah I learned the game, get the money, never search for fame From these worthless names and these serpent dames Know we 'bout that action, got the grip for the traction b**h what's bracking, while the money still stacking And the d** still taxing, Benji macking All the work, I'm in traffic, got the mask with the 'matic Down for the static, gotta move like a savage Got the pounds in the attic, dead cause he ratted [Hook: $ha Hef] That AK-47 make him sh** his pants Them bullets ricocheted and they gon' hit ya mans And if I make the call then they gon' hit ya fam n***a that's your b**h, then why she whipping grams That AK-47 make him sh** his pants I pull a heater out and give your b**h a tan I point it at the crowd and let it hit ya clan n***a that's your b**h, then why she whipping grams [Verse 2: Da$H] Still the same n***a bumping Flocka tracks 'Til my mama [?] Rolling pack, asking where the hoes is at, 'bout to make it brack You know I never lack, tight n***a get your [?] snatched Got some dough to cash, sly and from the Sack $ha said he gotta owe to match, the hoe rolling it My n***a what's the word, said what's the word In the street my n***a, f** the curb Used to ditch cla**, had to cluck to serve Now I make racks off of f**ing verse Blackout Boyz, b**h I'm already dead Hope every cop take a slug to the head Motherf** the government, motherf** the system Motherf** the judge who got my n***as in the prison Shout out to my n***as making living in the kitchen Said he was a hitter but he got caught slipping p**y n***a riffing, shooter steady itching 10 O'Clock news, got somebody child missing School on lock so I never really listened Only thing I heard when I tried to pay attention was (yeah so, yeah so, so, yeah, so yeah, yeah) Money, money, d**, b**hes f** the law, wig snitches k** your enemy, steal the riches That's why I say we different My n***as start wyling, y'all n***as start dying Your mama start crying, you hearing them sirens Swear to the science, y'all n***as see Zion Feel like a tyrant, best in the game, b**h I'm feeling like Brian Yeah so, walked through the door, said it before H'z the clique, b**h you already know In that white cup is four of that pour OG and Sour, no pa** me no dro Walked through the door, said it before Black Market Mob just showed up to the show Look at the set, all you seeing is 'lo Came for the globe, n***a act like you know [Hook: $ha Hef] That AK-47 make him sh** his pants Them bullets ricocheted and they gon' hit ya mans And if I make the call then they gon' hit ya fam n***a that's your b**h, then why she whipping grams That AK-47 make him sh** his pants I pull a heater out and give your b**h a tan I point it at the crowd and let it hit ya clan n***a that's your b**h, then why she whipping grams [Outro: $ha Hef] Smoking dope, selling weight Boosting up the murder rate Smoking dope, selling weight Boosting up the murder rate Smoking dope, selling weight Boosting up the murder rate Smoking dope, selling weight Boosting up the murder rate Smoking dope, selling weight Boosting up the murder rate Smoking dope, selling weight Boosting up the murder rate Smoking dope, selling weight Boosting up the murder rate