Roscoe P. Coldchain - Delinquent lyrics

[Intro] [Pharrell Williams] Lord I've seen so many things That make me wonder why But if the Federalis comes to take my life Just give me the wings to fly And I'll say, to myself, yeah What a wonderful.. [Rosco P. Coldchain] Well well well, why don't you you roll your window down I want you to see this [Hook: Pharrell Williams] [PW:] When a n***a is delinquent with cash in hand Even if it's just a couple of grams n***a do what I do, n***a drop that motherf**er Pop that motherf**er! [Verse: Rosco P. Coldchain] I done squeezed more guns than Charleton Heston And if you n***as mouths persist to run on, I'm a continue to step on Every limb on, every inch of yo body You better hope the outlaw better never go broke You f** around you be the one being smacked around wit a gun No joke slick, I'll shoot your papa and tie your mama up Whoop out an eight and pull out a straight, b**h take a hit of this coke Now, I advise you n***as to chill My percentile rises in the battle field Your gangsta rating declining when it's time to k** You rewindin, is it Rosco's rhymes you feel? Your eyes blinded, not from the ice but the light from my steel Ya'll n***as never seen real bread The Strongman type that buy car, brick Home and bikes, all at the same time I haven't either Basically what I'm saying I'll jam you, one Desert Eagle Uhh, Coldchain Jack! [Hook] [Verse: Rosco P. Coldchain] Why did the dickhead cross the road? Man I hit 'em with a 12 gauge And I didn't give him a chance to reload That's what inexperienced gangstas get for playing a role You hatin' on my dough? Look now there goes an angel taking your soul f** you, your fun, and your 4.6 I can push a renter, peel 'em wit guns and still be the sh** It'll be nice to be rich, but I'd rather be well off A half a pile raw, house in Conshohocken In a rimmed Impala I roll with thugs and thieves Not the petty kind but the ones that'll make you get on your knees And persuade you with their thundering pound To give up your valuables or they gunning you down I wanna leave the Pulitzer even though you cooperated They still letting off rounds Now in your own matter you drown Greed and insanity drove me to start k**ing you clowns 41 caliber slugs stuck in your bladder now Clipse, Rosco P. - we platinum bound [Hook] (2x) [Verse: Rosco P. Coldchain] You n***as would love to see me gone In a plastic bag ligaments torn But b**h I pop more n***as than I pop Perkisets Thump on you so hard I'll make it seem like Even if you were strapped your hammer just ain't working right Bullets coming in flurries, fiends coming in a hurry At a quarter to four in the morning, knocking at my crackhouse door Neighbors waking up yawning, secretly calling the police Draw'n, and that fact I'm ignorin Like I'm not running a 24-Hour d**tore Like I ain't got enough guns to take on an armed force Remmington will leave ya mind simmering In a fine blood sauce when I'm pissed off Which is all the time so you better get lost I ain't got a fine line These slugs will leave ya twitching like a schitz' and smoke his jaw You dealing with a repeat feloner If we can't see eye to eye, I'm a sea level ya And I mean that, deado [Hook]