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g perico - pistol grip poetry كلمات الأغنية

[verse 1]
pistol grip poetry
every g_ngb_nger in the city streets notice me
chacha with the choppers
if it ain’t yellow tape, send him straight to the doctor
i’m stashed up nasty
i ain’t tripping if the cops ever gaffle me
that’s what i’m getting money for
i’m the n_gga that the clicc go dummy for
made my first twenty thousand on 112th
to this day it’s broadway, i don’t know nothing else
hoes down on the blade playing patty_cake
the way i put sh_t together, n_ggas had to hate
better watch your step fore you step in some sh_t
thought the homie was a gangster but he messy like a b_tch
shouts out to g snub, he a real one
real innerprize crip that’ll k!ll something
[verse 2]
we got motion from south central to east oakland
real members like “g scrilla, keep it going”
real members hanging out on some ghetto sh_t
if n_ggas don’t want peace then we gon level sh_t
that’s pistol grip poetry
i’m throwing shots and ain’t hiding, imma let ’em know it’s me
chacha with the chops
heard the block was for sale so we cashed out and bought it
finally went legit, no more going on the run
all the sh_t that i done did, god forgive me when i come
gordon stay on a lake, that sh_t proper
it’s a trip cause he getting rich selling urban water
gotta trust the process
i done made my own lane, i’m looking good, i know it’s hard for you to digest
they using my identity but they dissing me
i’m god and these n_ggas like judas, they been k!lling me

[verse 3]
all this pressure sitting up under these palm trees
if i gotta watch then you fasho gotta watch me
yeah, that’s pistol grip poetry
extended clip, i’ll fasho put a hole in ’em
yeah, chacha make ’em backflip
thought i had a homie but them n_ggas always catfish
shout out to my people in them concrete caskets
on the phone calling home for a package
tell my n_gga swiss “won’t be long fore you back again
we turning up but this time i’m having m’s”
yeah, that’s motion
i won’t let ’em trick me out my spot, bro i’m focused
i still got my soul and my heart, i ain’t sold it
i pray to god that n_ggas don’t make me have to smoke ’em
i pray to god that n_ggas don’t make me have to smoke ’em
but if i do, f_ck it, it’s pistol grip poetry

- g perico

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