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nas]damn! look how muh-fuckers use a niggajust use me for whatever the fuck they wanti don't get to say shitjust grab me, just do what the fuck they wantsell me, throw me awayniggaz just don't give a fuck about a nigga like me right?like i'm a f... i'm a gun, shitit's like i'm a motherfuckin guni can't believe this shit....word up.. (word up..)I seen some cold nights and bloody daysthey grab and me bullets spraythey use me wrong so i sing this song 'til this daymy body is cold steel for reali was made to kill, that's why they keep me concealedunder car seats they sneak me in clubsbeen in the hands of mad thugsthey feed me when they load me with mad slugsseventeen precisely, one in my headthey call me desert eagle, semi-auto with leadi'm seven inches four pounds, been through so many townsohio to little rock to canarsie, livin harshlybeat up and battered, they pull me outi watch as niggaz scattered, makin me killbut what i feel it never matteredwhen i'm empty i'm quiet, findin myself fiendin to be fireda broken safety, niggaz place me in shelvesunder beds, so i beg for my next owner to be a thoroughbredkeep me full up with hollow headsChorus: nas (repeat 2x)How you like me now? i go blaowit's that shit that moves crowds makin every ghetto fouli might have took your first childscarred your life, crippled your stylei gave you poweri made you buck wild[nas]always i'm in some shit, my abdomen is the clipthe barrel is my dick, uncircumcisedpull my skin back and cock me, i bust off when they unlock meresults of what happens to niggaz shock mei see niggaz bleedin runnin from me in fear, stunningly tearsfall down the eyes of these so-called tough guys, for yearsi've been used in robberies, givin niggaz heart to follow meplacin peoples in graves, funerals made cause i was sprayedi was laid in a shelf, with a grenademet a wrecked-up tech with numbers on his chest that say five-two-oh-nine-three-eight-five and zerohad a serial defaced, hopin one day, police would placewhere he came from, a name or some sort of person to claim himtired of murderin, made him wanna be a plain gunbut yo i had some other plans, like the next time the beef is oni make myself jam right in my owner's handChorus[nas]yo, weeks went by and i'm surprisedstill stuck in the shelf with all the things that an outlaw hidesbesides me it's bullets, two vests and then a ninethere's a grenade in a box, and that tech that kept cryincause he ain't been cleaned in a year, he's rusty as clearhe's bout to fall to pieces, cause of his murder careeryo, i can hear somebody comin in, open the shelfhis eyes bubblin, he said, "it was on"i |
felt his palm troubled him shakinsomebody stomped him out, his dome was achinhe placed me on his waist, the moment i've been waitinmy creation was for blacks to kill blacksit's gats like me that accidentally, go off, makin niggaz memoriesbut this time, it's done intentionallyhe walked me outside, saw this catcocked me back, said, "remember me?"he pulled the trigger but i held on, it felt wrongknowing niggaz is waiting in hell for 'imhe squeezed harder, i didn't budge, sick of the bloodsick of the thugs, sick of wrath of the, next man's grudgewhat the other kid did was pull out, no doubta newer me in better shape, before he lit out, he lead the chasemy owner fell to the floor, his wig split so fasti didn't know he was hit, it's over withheard mad niggaz screamin, niggaz runnin, cops is cominnow i'm happy, until i felt somebody else grab medamn! |
