Trackmasters - Throw Your Guns lyrics

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Trackmasters - Throw Your Guns lyrics

(Intro) AZ Y'know, personally, I'm for the paper As long as we all see doe (Yo yo, big boys play for large sums) Yeah, uh huh (Even b**hes got their sh** tight) Ha ha ha Aight (If you're with us throw your guns up, what the f**? Form a philly, co*k your sh** back and bust) [Half-A-Mil] You acquired the knowledge, my brainwaves cause riots in college Science scholar in this world of violence and dollars Firm rapping god from the projects It ain't hard, from Medicaid cards to platinum cars My clique is that large to get their dick licked And back ma**aged by rich chicks who rock Versace bras In the drop, watching the stars Yo, the conquest is ours, mission accomplished, sh**ting on Congress Benz whipped with a 6, on this six million tons When I appear reptilians run Firm affilions, willions exile your team like Indians Your style's a dream, we pop Cristal and drive Bentley's in The same streets you can't get a penny in All my real shootout n***as hear me when Half-A-Mil shoot out with Bohemians, calicos spitting in n***as splitting in the same position they're sitting in What sentencing? We got too much Benjamins We even got triple six IBM plastic currency with chips in them Images k**ing them, my n***as lay back We use to pump a G, now we pump 100-K packs Guns aimed at ya, destroy your whole world like *?K-mat?* What part of the game's that? To curse my hot verse is flame rap Players got the game trapped, I be the king mack On my b**hes mind 'til their bring crack... (Chorus) AZ Yo yo, big boys play for large sums Stack up, strategise, watch the cons come It's all a game, even b**hes got their sh** tight On the scene, 18, s**ing dick, right? It's sick, right? If you're with us throw your guns up, what the f**? Form a philly, co*k your sh** back and bust [AZ] What? From NY to New Orleans, we're all fiends Court scenes, flashbacks to kidnaps in Fort Green Guns bussing, stash house out in Flushing Corruption, k**er men-tal is foul adjusting Cold nights, handled the streets my whole life Back and forth, kikes, focus for n***as who've lost sight Travel thought wise, beyond light years, way across skies Short-i's, so many making living off lies Anti-up, hoping my new shorty don't stand me up It had me stuck, after this session, I plan to f** Hot pursuit, a real splitting image of Pop Duke Block lasoo's, paper player part of my roots So what do you gross yearly? I live this game so sincerely Really, most rap cats couldn't come near me So it's either or, Peter pay Paul, you and yours Fools in fours, regulate life thru rules and laws... (Chorus) [Half-A-Mil] Firm official, 8-50 I, burning pistol Black Magnum P-I, mack V-I, willie hat Half beehive, wise guy '95 I look in my eye, praising Allah Project aiming rod Greatest star Akbar, pushing a hot car Shark Bar, private engagement, live entertainment I grab mics and I explain it How I've went from the blinds to the brainless To the minds of the wise and the famous n***as wives admire the guy's arrangers Take off their wedding rings and give head to the king It's just a cheddar thing, amaretta, Armani leather thing We in to better things like wetting the brains Jumping outta stretches with minks, crime connected with link Up in the club buying drinks, b**hes eyeing the spinks Hustler haters hate us, my guns say "f** what they think" My son copped a Hummer this summer with a bu*toned-up mink (Chorus)