Royce Da 5'9" - Gun Music lyrics

[Sample] "You get old enough, you remember a reason why everybody wants to whack you You believe them all, but you know somebody got to be lying Or maybe, they're all lying When you can't see the angles no more, you're in trouble, baby You're in trouble" [Hook] Gun music f** a ho, slap a foe, smoke a blunt to it If you're a chump, turn it off, this is dump music If you're a boss, send them n***as to the store to it That old school sh** This is that gun music f** a ho, slap a foe, smoke a blunt to it If you're a chump, turn it down, this is thump music If you're a boss, send them k**ers on a prow to it, now bow to it This is that gun music [Verse 1] f** a hit, radio can s** a dick I go to MTV and 106 to buck a clip Shoot that n***a Terrence in his head If he tell him "f** his mama" then he probably got his parent in his bed Hardbody, flow should be illegal like a sawed shotty Come to the Mo, you better call somebody Slap a sissy a** n***a cause he's sissy a** I don't need no motherf**ing reason, I'll pick his past n***as be like, "why you so mad, Nickel?", shut the f** up I tell the fliest b**h in the world I'm just as stuck up Yeah, and that's how I feel, fight me about it Down to do time over this sh**, write me about it I'm ending any problems, sometimes, I even start them I take a n***a balls off them, leotard them Pop go the motherf**ing weasel like a R-A-G-E in Harlem n***a this is that [Hook] [Verse 2] You know if you murder, I'm here to see you I got my wife and my n***a, Kino, on pins and needles They don't know if they gon' get that Royce caught his d**h call Or that department of corrections collect call I'm going to hell in a hand basket I whoop a n***a's a** good, that a**whooping is handcrafted I rather put them triggers to you cause n***as will sue you You're f**ed like I just donated my liver to you If you ain't get that last line n***a, drink with me I got muscle out here, I roll around with strength with me Yeah, your boy drinks but your boy thinks Show up with n***as that's born to be what you boys can't We're so deep in this motherf**ing club I got you contemplating leaving your crew like Lloyd Banks Rather it's fair or not, it you and me And it ain't nothing between us but air and opportunity, this is that [Hook] [Verse 3] My own cousin say I talk about k**ing too much He talk about me talking 'bout k**ing too much What the f** I'm supposed to talk about, world peace? n***a please, go somewhere and kiss your girl feet And while you're sitting down peeing, play some R&B I'ma be making the murder movies, staring me This sh** here ain't for fakes If you ain't laid a n***a down, that's bound to be the reason why you can't relate Y'all n***as can do the hoe sh** While you're making songs for my chick, I'm somewhere f**ing your b**h Somewhere over the bridge ordering squid I rather call it calamari, a rounded Ferrari For rent is 2600 down like an Atari I'm sorry, on my life, I'm the life of the party On my mama's life, I bust before Realer than any n***a rhyming, f** the flow, this is that [Hook] Gun music f** a ho, slap a foe, smoke a blunt to it If you're a chump, turn it off, this is dump music If you're a boss, send them n***as to the store to it That old school sh** This is that gun music