Guns N' Razors Lyrics - Cappadonna

Oh shit, look at them, they running on foot 

They picked the car up, they on some Flintstone shit 

Oh shit... and them niggaz stuck together 

On some Siamese shit... yo 

Yo, classic murders, slick gun material 

Burnt up bodies that rock with no burial 

Hammers that hardly work, go to work 

Like a slave on a hot day, with no water 

Blow you for props, in the cop's face, might get knocked up 

Jakes that play hero, they can get popped up 

Face fallin' off they cheekbone, gotta take meat 

From they ass, to sow it back, I'm a beast, holmes 

It's ground beef, in the streets, so we street's clone 

Like fresh fruit, from a tree, so the heat's blown 

Your momma missing, your boys are crying 

Cut ya balls out your nutsack, the chinks are buying 

Shit bags is like gift bags, you get it for free 

If you master fronting, classic cutting 

You keep stunting, them gem star'll rip something 

Look homey, it's the bloody sweepstakes 

Glove club you down in the club, how you like that, sweet cakes? 

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Yo, it was a minute after twelve, when the tragedy struck 

Niggaz emptied on son, and left 'em leaning right in Valerie's truck 

The red Cherokee blood was pouring out his head heavily 

The only motive for murder was wetter, either jealousy 

The found him slumped over the wheel, horn blowing 

Bullet holes showing, property stolen, motor still going 

Driving side door, waves scoping, the window is broken 

Glass back and shredded his grill, his collar was soaking 

He probably knew the killas, cause they jinxed him with ease 

Cops hold the perimeter, thirsty, looking for leads 

Knocking on doors, questioning tenants, the lieutenant 

Was the first to arrive on the scene, he knew he was finished 

DeWayne Roberts knew him in college, mid-twenties 

Stopped being brolic, V.A. driver's license in his wallet 

The last call on his mobile phone was back to home 

Sorry, Miss Amonia's son was found dead with two in his dome 

Photos 

This be the bird's eye view of things, look how we doing things 

We stick niggaz up and we take they rings 

Mission Impossible, Theodore Unit, we unstoppable 

Spit razors out of our mouth and start chopping you 

Bank robbers, blood jakes out with the obstacle 

Ropes hanging down from the roof, my parachute 

Soaking water, heat smoking, we scrape and we Pillage, man 

Wherever we broke in, Theodore, pulverize 

Boat rides and tours, smashed 'em in the crib with they coconut straws 

Dudes step off the scene, black face and four-four 

The CREAM that we stack up, cake and whores 

Cash in abundance, the cats that I run with 

Got gats at a motel, and splashed by the hundreds 

I don't ask if I want it, my attitude is running 

I don't ask if I want it, my attitude is running, yup 

Mega ice neck, with some fish, with some fish dishes 

Rakim gems, my mind shine is what my weight misses 

Anything else is uncivilized, send the kind of niggaz 

A tremendous spy, you can see the venom by 

My nine leave a ten to buy, I don't need my men to ride 

I'm in the moshing squad, beside the car that's highly energized 

Been advised, before, that f**king with I, is genocide 

Many men have died, from playing games from what they feel inside 

Brawl with it in me, put it on my enemy 

Be warned, defending me, like killing off a Kennedy 

I silly song M.C.'s get sent on base 

Type of nigga spit the Remy or laugh in ya face 

This dig in my waste, is mastery, step out of place 

Shatter that ass, like glass, and break fast like a neglige 

Play with the biscuit, dick, don't even risk it 

I, snatch up my misses, and dash on the interstate