AK-47

Lyrics

[Hook: $ha Hef] That AK-47 make him shit his pants Them bullets ricocheted and they gon' hit ya mans And if I make the call then they gon' hit ya fam My nigga that's your bitch, then why she whipping grams [Verse 1: $ha Hef] I heard you niggas getting bread, I got that butter man That chopper st-st-stutter man, just like the dutter man The rubber band man, wild as the Tabliban 9 in my Caravan, cocaine avalanche That boy dead, ain't no need to call an ambulance I hit him with the bat and ram, he did the hammer dance Still getting money, move it hand to hand Revolvers never jam, popping Xannies in a candy-land The candyman, sipping that purple rain My life is perfect, was birthed on a turf when I earned my stain Put the work on the flame, smell the burnt cocaine Watch 'em search for veins, selling Kurt Cobain Yeah I learned the game, get the money, never search for fame From these worthless names and these serpent dames Know we 'bout that action, got the grip for the traction Bitch what's bracking, while the money still stacking And the drugs still taxing, Benji macking All the work, I'm in traffic, got the mask with the 'matic Down for the static, gotta move like a savage Got the pounds in the attic, dead cause he ratted [Hook: $ha Hef] That AK-47 make him shit his pants Them bullets ricocheted and they gon' hit ya mans And if I make the call then they gon' hit ya fam Nigga that's your bitch, then why she whipping grams That AK-47 make him shit his pants I pull a heater out and give your bitch a tan I point it at the crowd and let it hit ya clan Nigga that's your bitch, then why she whipping grams [Verse 2: Da$H] Still the same nigga bumping Flocka tracks 'Til my mama [?] Rolling pack, asking where the hoes is at, 'bout to make it brack You know I never lack, tight nigga get your [?] snatched Got some dough to cash, sly and from the Sack $ha said he gotta owe to match, the hoe rolling it My nigga what's the word, said what's the word In the street my nigga, fuck the curb Used to ditch class, had to cluck to serve Now I make racks off of fucking verse Blackout Boyz, bitch I'm already dead Hope every cop take a slug to the head Motherfuck the government, motherfuck the system Motherfuck the judge who got my niggas in the prison Shout out to my niggas making living in the kitchen Said he was a hitter but he got caught slipping Pussy nigga riffing, shooter steady itching 10 O'Clock news, got somebody child missing School on lock so I never really listened Only thing I heard when I tried to pay attention was (yeah so, yeah so, so, yeah, so yeah, yeah) Money, money, drugs, bitches Fuck the law, wig snitches Kill your enemy, steal the riches That's why I say we different My niggas start wyling, y'all niggas start dying Your mama start crying, you hearing them sirens Swear to the science, y'all niggas see Zion Feel like a tyrant, best in the game, bitch I'm feeling like Brian Yeah so, walked through the door, said it before H'z the clique, bitch you already know In that white cup is four of that pour OG and Sour, no pass me no dro Walked through the door, said it before Black Market Mob just showed up to the show Look at the set, all you seeing is 'lo Came for the globe, nigga act like you know [Hook: $ha Hef] That AK-47 make him shit his pants Them bullets ricocheted and they gon' hit ya mans And if I make the call then they gon' hit ya fam Nigga that's your bitch, then why she whipping grams That AK-47 make him shit his pants I pull a heater out and give your bitch a tan I point it at the crowd and let it hit ya clan Nigga that's your bitch, then why she whipping grams [Outro: $ha Hef] Smoking dope, selling weight Boosting up the murder rate Smoking dope, selling weight Boosting up the murder rate Smoking dope, selling weight Boosting up the murder rate Smoking dope, selling weight Boosting up the murder rate Smoking dope, selling weight Boosting up the murder rate Smoking dope, selling weight Boosting up the murder rate Smoking dope, selling weight Boosting up the murder rate