Lyrics

[Intro: 40 Glocc] Big Bash 4-O Hahahaha Sam Scarfo Yea! Infa, Infa, Infamous Up in this, yea Infa-infa, Infamous Up in this [Verse 1: 40 Glocc] I'm the king of the coast, I'm a rider for real Dickies, T-shirts, that's my deal Keep my peripheral in my rearview Step in the club, and do that one-two Infamous G's, do what they want to Move in a unit, like we 'posed to Watch ya step, don't get too close, fools As a matter of fact, it's past your curfew You dealin' with grown men, these hands'll hurt you For crumbs off my table, the homie'll murk you Your life was adopted, you could say I birthed you The nail in the coffin, straight to your torso **2 gun shots sound effect** Ain't you dead yet? I knew he had bitch in him the day we first met Pussy's bleedin', I gave him a cold test Hit his ass up Nigga, this cold grip I'm already gone, off a half a stick I created your life and this the thanks I get? My chain and my neck represent the set Yellin' Guerilla Unit, cuzz, beatin' my chest Feelin' hella buzzed, off of liquor and blunts Treatin' ey'day like the first of the month With a pocket full of stones, still served in a cup And a fitted twenty pack, right hand on my gun [Chorus: Sam Scarfo] Uh You ain't really that deep You ain't bangin' no heat You don't really want beef, where them hammers at? Blaow, blaow, blaow, where them hammers at? Blaow, blaow, blaow, where them hammers at? Calico, MAC-10, AK, ery'day, shorty whop, 40 Glocc, homie, what you gotta say? It's on, nigga, where them hammers at? Blaow, blaow, blaow, where them hammers at? [Verse 2: 40 Glocc] I moved out the hood, straight to the 'burbs Keep my ear to the street like I sleep on the curb Put my feet to your head piece to get on your nerves Drink liquor till I'm pissy, I must concur Dump till the clip empty, watch the outcome occur Treatin' trouble like pussy, divin' in head first I fill that boy up from the head on down Turn a crooked-ass frown, upside down Keep heat in my pants like a STD Ridin' shotgun in V.I.P., SUV I'm S-U-P, R-E-M-E Do a driveby in daylight like Big Tray Deee When I yell out, "Peace" I want a piece of the pie Or I'm a use the doo-wap to knock a piece at ya thigh It's hard to stay alive, niggas, easy to die Now analyze my life and try to walk in my nights Let's see how many bullets, you could die tonight If I die tonight I'll be remembered For them throw-away burners with no serial numbers I'm a felon, homeboy No registered pistols If you running from me, homie That lead'll get you [Chorus: Sam Scarfo] Uh-huh You ain't really that deep You ain't bangin' no heat You don't really want beef, where them hammers at? Blaow, blaow, blaow, where them hammers at? Blaow, blaow, blaow, where them hammers at? Calico, MAC-10, AK, ery'day, shorty whop, 40 Glocc, homie, what you gotta say? It's on, nigga, where them hammers at? Blaow, blaow, blaow, where them hammers at?