Pastor Troy - Sh!t (ATL Remix) lyrics

[Intro: Future] Oh, you know you ain't got all them guns And you ain't k**ed nobody yet How many times you shot that muhf**a? Ain't nobody popped up dead sh**! [Hook: Future] Talkin' bout ya poppin' tags, n***a, you ain't bought sh** Talkin' bout 100 bottles, n***a, you ain't pop sh** All you talk nana clips, n***a, you ain't shot sh** Spendin' money on these hoes, n***a, you ain't f** sh** sh**, sh** [Verse 1: Pastor Troy] Y'all ain't crunk like me, y'all ain't bout sh** AK-47 and that Ruger and some other sh** PT Cruiser, n***a, do a n***a, who the n***a? I'm so ratchet with that plastic sh** get drastic, leave him in the casket Now my n***a Mike WiLL giving me a chill pill But a n***a crunk still, plenty n***as got k**ed I don't give a f** though, still got some ammo Dressed in camo, represent Atlanta, ho Pastor Disaster back like the rapture Don't let me catch ya, ho, I'm coming at ya Bap on my shoulder, pocket full of doja Keep my composure, f** pulling over Brrrrr, stick 'em, f** the n***as with them I'm gonna get them, promise I'mma hit them Pastor Disaster, get off my dick I be clean from my cup to my kicks Foreign! How I like my b**h Y'all, n***as, ain't, sh**! [Hook] [Verse 2: Jeezy] Made the Forbes and I'm straight up outta projects Still running with them n***as with that work check It go "Brrrrrrrr" with the choppa That's the only way the p**y 'posed to stop ya Pour out a little liquor, one in every got a ghetto Stack a 20 bill, n***a, tall as Carmelo Winter olympic games and the categories caine Bet ya one f**in' thing, I'll win a gold medal Why ya actin' like a b**h? Lil Jon, my n***a Don't you ever doubt me, I'm like LeBron, my n***a I ain't takin' no shorts, b**h, I hit it with the fork f** a wrist game, use my whole arm, my n***a Snowman, b**h, y'all know me Fourth quarter pressure on 'em like Kobe Act like my sh** don't stink, pocket feel like a bank Neck lookin' like a 40 ounce of O.E Tell me why my album selling, they ain't murder me yet If they do, bury me in a burgundy 'Vette Talk behind my back, you could hate me all ya want But them same f** n***as ain't shot sh** yet Yeah, you see me on Gangland, as real as it get They just rappin' about it, I was livin' that sh** Straight up [Hook] [Bridge: T.I.] This for my n***as when they walk up out the house, they (turn it) f** what ya mouth say (turn it, turn it) [Verse 3: T.I.] Fully automatic rifle, 100 round drum on it with a scope I done had that, n***a (Brrrrrrr, stick 'em) I ain't playing with these n***as, just k** 'em, turn it n***a talk sh**, I'll blast that n***a Shoot his a** right in front his homeboys k** the party, drove off and then stab that n***a Everyone vicinity hear the boy ho noise I'm the Zone 1 king, from a whole one thing Threw a 100 on it, shawty, I was doing my thing You tryna get a million, I done did that Aye, keep it pimpin', keep a ticket where I live at Aye, listen, s**a, I got nothin' for ya but a new coffin I'll shoot you walkin' 'fore you get through talkin', n***a! Catch me walkin' in ya hood, trench coat swingin' Mask on, step up on ya front porch bangin' Them Bankhead n***as, they a muhf**a, ain't they? I'm the realest, richest n***a that you know today famous Catch ya flaggin' in ya hood and ya wanna be a gangsta In ya skinny jeans in arenas entertainin' No matter how you paint it, better see the big picture I'll get ya, n***a, wit' ya, then hit ya n***a! [Hook]