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letra de pistols power paper - spice 1

– send corrections to the typist

(verse 1)
i got so much trouble on my mind
you playa haters make a real n-gg- shine
as we pop collars
pimp slaps, i mash for dollars
we don’t listen, hard-head–ss n-gg-s
heated with choppers
can’t tell me sh-t, or to talk to
when i’m walkin with my n-gg-s thru the crowd
talkin h-lla loud
off that c-ke and rum, they let us in with our guns
didn’t search us at all, the made n-gg- spice 1
you don’t wanna see us
n-gg- you better roll with us
we’re ready to go to war when the feds come to get us
we’re obitual criminals, take your punk–ss home
tryna hang with street dawgs with a flee color on
you can’t ride with us
you can’t slide with us
when you’re actin like a b-tch
terrified to bust
‘415’ with us, too scared to die with us
red lights and street signs don’t apply to us
we brake the m-th-fuccin law every chance we get
put a .45 slug in the back of your sh-t
now, how m-th-fuccin gangsta can you get
cause n-gg-s gotta have b-lls ‘n brains in this
game in this b-tch n-gg-s aim to miss
i heat and sink dat m-th-fuccas battle ships
smash and dip
peelin on -ss and hips
do a show, b-tches in the crowd flash they t-ts
we ain’t fake n-gg-
surroundin myself with killers
know the best gun dealers in town
bring impalas to the shoot out
puttin m-th-fuccas to sleep
it’s deep, i still keep a .44 under the seat
you m-th-fuccas can’t see me when i fade to black
paranoid, tryna find where the f-ck out where you at n-gg-

(chorus) 1x

pimpin is p-ssy-poetry
pistols, power and paper
murderers, money, mayheim
million of skyscr-pers
tell me do you see a killa when you look in my eyes?
can you tell a real n-gg- from a b-tch in disguise?
is you ready to ride?
is you scared to die?
is you scared to die?
is you ready to ride?

(hook)

pimpin is p-ssy-poetry
pistols, power and paper
murderers, money, mayheim
million of skyscr-pers

(verse 2)
i’m right behind ya
i know you feel death in a room
military from the womb quick to be ghetto platoon
i’m a blood thursty money hungry n-gg- for cash
ridin on enemies, smokin weed and hash
g’s don’t last, will i die from a violent death
will i live til i’m 85 and die from s-x
this m-th-fucca is walkin ’round i wanna stop him from breathin
as i dials his number he won’t make it thru the weekend
i came thru the door
i said it before
put one in his dome
he was dead before he hit the floor
cause a thug lord n-gg- is always hard
come fuccin with us and we will pull your card
knowin nothin in life but to ride and ball
never slide before a b-tch n-gg- is hidin from
under cars and bushes tryna dodge the bullets
still makin more mail than the rest of the pushers n-gg-

(chorus) 2x

- spice 1

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