(No More) Mr. Nice Guy

You wanna talk about guns?
You wanna talk about bitches?
Wanna talk about drugs?
How you hitting them switches?
You wanna talk about shooting?
You wanna talk about gats?
Well, listen Imma tell ya
Mother fucker, fuck that

(Fuck that)
Pussy, money, alcohol, all full of killers
My middle finger to that, and the rest of they agenda
I remember growing up it was more artists that was gifted
Got me reminiscing
Travel to '93 for tips on gimmick killin
Back to the future
I use em to script these testaments
And maneuver through nuisances
Y'all are meddling with a man that's fond of burying
Anybody you better go and bring the rose petals in
You messing with Malcolm and Martin Luther
You steppin to the judge and the shooter
Here lies another rap guy, praise to I, testify, hallelujah
Mirror Dance, celebrate the game's future
Disturb your peace like I teamed up with Luda
They ain't never seen heart like this
Josh marks all slots on my top 10 list

I know that passion missing, things been different
What I got to offer ain't the same, but you won't listen
Only talkin bout your diamonds glisten I ain't trippin
I'm just wondering baby where your substance
Is you gon change the content of discussion?

You wanna talk about guns?
You wanna talk about bitches?
Wanna talk about drugs?
How you hitting them switches?
You wanna talk about shooting?
You wanna talk about gats?
Well, listen Imma tell ya
Mother fucker, fuck that

I hit a lick in the booth
I say StraightJacket the proof of the magic that diligence do
I'm from the home of the hustle
You shuffle, your cards getting pulled
If you say real talk, I probably won't trust ya
Spit a flame, let it burn nice and slow, like my first name is Usher
Run for cover if I'm on the mic
Got a vendetta, and a heavy right
Writing with amphetamines since a teen
Pen crack cocaine, write for the veins of these fiends
That believe that these legends ain't pass in vain, and I'm just sayin
I ain't really here to play, nahmean?
Boy I leave your fucking face at the scene
Leave your body in the trunk with the rest of your team
My humility might be my worst enemy
They ain't got it like I do, but I'm steady being friendly G
Well, No more Mr. Nice Guy
I put an end to they parade like it's rain in the night sky
And they ain't never seen heart like this
Ducking, diving, riding, Imma die for this shit

You wanna talk about guns?
You wanna talk about bitches?
Wanna talk about drugs?
How you hitting them switches?
You wanna talk about shooting?
You wanna talk about gats?
Well, listen Imma tell ya
Mother fucker, fuck that



Credits
Writer(s): Elisha Odinga
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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