I Ain't Gotta Say Shit

That pistol heavy, got me walking with a gangsta limp
F'n bullets big enough to sink a fucking ship
Just ask them pussy nigga's that you hanging with
Put that pistol to yo head, we don't aim and miss
You bitches won't do nothing but a lot of talk
And if they find you in the river, that's not my fault
30 thousand on the stripper, I'm just fuckin' off
Put a price on you head, I'm like "fuck the cost"
Put some nigga's on they feet, I won't have to pay
Put the word on the streets, you won't last a day
Pussy nigga's want beef, that's a super size
Go to war with Juicy J, that's a suicide
And they won't find yo' body for a couple of weeks
Meanwhile I'm touring, fucking groupie bitches over seas

You got yo nigga's with you, but they ain't goin' say shit
Got money ice on me, nigga ain't goin' take shit
Send them goons at ya, I ain't gotta say shit
(I ain't gotta say shit)
You got yo nigga's with you, but they ain't goin' say shit
Got money ice on me, nigga ain't goin' take shit
Send them goons at ya, I ain't gotta say shit
(I ain't gotta say shit)

Bunch of goons on deck, bunch of two's on deck
Shoot you front close range, don't die, you blessed
Got an angel on your side, got God in your corner
You a bitch in your hood ain't nobody got any money
All this money in my pocket, how this pistol goin' fit
12 gauge on the seat, with the pistol grip
Me and my shooters hit your block and shut it down
You nigga's ain't no killa's, ya'll a bunch of clowns
Spray everything up, couple hundred rounds, get everybody touched
Surround your house, no running out
Try to leave, you fucked
That's real talk, no secrets
That's how we handle that beef shit
Drop yo' ass in the Mississippi, with shoes made out of cement



Credits
Writer(s): Tyree Lamar Jr Pittman
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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