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Pistol Smoke ft. Solomon Childs
Ghostface Killah
Popularity ยท Low
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๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
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Lyrics
Original
Translation
Bilingual
Yo, yeah
You can get clapped in the deadly hall
Where the killers skate off in a clean G Wagon, all gray
Chain swingin', the god-gods was tried for 'meanors
Gucci, last thing they seen hittin' the cement
The fuck ya'll standing around for?
Watch my reel, I make scripts off strips like, hold on, strip
I don't care what he say, how many guns he got
Just ask your mans about my flicks
Movies, gruesome bars, we boofed it
Rikers Island, that phone got bodies on it, true shit
A clicks, two sticks it'll cost you, baby
That's two pin joints if I lost you, baby
Yeah, I'm back we can go bar for bar
Tied hands together with the aux, go scar for scar
Go 'head and act up, injuries gone add up
Walkin' out the ER like a mummy, all wrapped up
Come on board, shooters we hiring
Scarface bald head niggas, we admire them
Rumor has it alot of frauds got flaws on 'em
See a lot of Madea in niggas, wrong drawers on 'em
Many legs I broke, many necks I choked (Right)
Many legs I broke, many necks I choked (Right)
Many legs I broke, many necks I choked (Right)
And if provoked, I let the pistol smoke (Brr)
Many legs I broke, many necks I choked
Many legs I broke, many necks I choked
Many legs I broke, many necks I choked
And if provoked I let the pistol smoke
I held 'em up like a pair of crutches
Had 'em all in a jam like I ran with Smuckers
Cops, sirens, paparazzi over hot bodies
Headshots in the Maserati
Don't wrap that nigga, no Polo sheets
Keep it discreet, I told that nigga he'd be dead in a week
His bitch told me where he rest, where he keep his cheese
He got a stashbox in the wheel in both his Vs
I got 47 cocaine connects out in Monaco
Top of the line, these coke chefs made the honor roll
And that's the reason I don't fuck with faggots
21 guns that go savage
70 nuns that tote smoke in the old baggage
Whatever I see, I grab it
But you get the message like it's all on a tablet
You straight bitch like Tiff Haddish
Hustle grands like Tip Harris
The whole hood drop like a miscarriage
Many legs I broke, many necks I choked (Right)
Many legs I broke, many necks I choked (Right)
Many legs I broke, many necks I choked (Right)
And if provoked, I let the pistol smoke (Brr)
Many legs I broke, many necks I choked
Many legs I broke, many necks I choked
Many legs I broke many necks I choked
And if provoked, I let the pistol smoke
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