G Perico - Pistol Grip Poetry lyrics
[G Perico - Pistol Grip Poetry lyrics]
Pistol grip poetry
Every gangbanger in the city
Streets notice me cha-cha with the choppers
If it ain't yellow tape
Send him straight to the doctor
I'm stashed up nasty
I ain't tripping if the cops ever gaffle me
That's what I'm getting money for
I'm the nigga that The Clicc go dummy for
Made my first twenty thousand on 112th
To this day it's Broadway
I don't know nothing else
Hoes down on the blade playing patty-cake
The way I put shit together
Niggas had to hate
Better watch your step 'fore you
Step in some shit
Thought the homie was a gangster
But he messy like a bitch
Shouts out to G Snub, he a real one
Real Innerprize Crip that'll kill something
We got motion from South
Central to East Oakland
Real members like, "G Scrilla
Keep it going"
Real members hanging out on some ghetto shit
If niggas don't want peace
Then we gon' level shit
That's pistol grip poetry
I'm throwing shots and ain't hiding
I'ma let 'em know it's me
Cha-cha with the chops
Heard the block was for sale
So we cashed out and bought it
Finally went legit, no more going on the run
All the shit that I done did
God forgive me when I come
Gordon stay on a lake, that shit proper
It's a trip cause he getting
Rich selling Urban Water
Gotta trust the process
I done made my own lane i'm looking good
I know it's hard for you to digest
They using my identity, but they dissing me
I'm God and these niggas like Judas
They been killing me
All this pressure sitting up
Under these palm trees
If I gotta watch then you
For sure gotta watch me
Yeah, that's pistol grip poetry
Extended clip
I'll for sure put a hole in him
Yeah, cha-cha make 'em backflip
Thought I had a homie
But them niggas always catfish
Shout out to my people
In them concrete caskets
On the phone calling home for a package
Tell my nigga Swiss
"Won't be long 'fore you back again
We turning up, but this time
I'm having Ms" yeah, that's motion
I won't let 'em trick me out my spot
Bro I'm focused
I still got my soul and my heart
I ain't sold it
I pray to God that niggas don't
Make me have to smoke 'em
I pray to God that niggas don't
Make me have to smoke 'em
But if I do, fuck it
It's pistol grip poetry
Every gangbanger in the city
Streets notice me cha-cha with the choppers
If it ain't yellow tape
Send him straight to the doctor
I'm stashed up nasty
I ain't tripping if the cops ever gaffle me
That's what I'm getting money for
I'm the nigga that The Clicc go dummy for
Made my first twenty thousand on 112th
To this day it's Broadway
I don't know nothing else
Hoes down on the blade playing patty-cake
The way I put shit together
Niggas had to hate
Better watch your step 'fore you
Step in some shit
Thought the homie was a gangster
But he messy like a bitch
Shouts out to G Snub, he a real one
Real Innerprize Crip that'll kill something
We got motion from South
Central to East Oakland
Real members like, "G Scrilla
Keep it going"
Real members hanging out on some ghetto shit
If niggas don't want peace
Then we gon' level shit
That's pistol grip poetry
I'm throwing shots and ain't hiding
I'ma let 'em know it's me
Cha-cha with the chops
Heard the block was for sale
So we cashed out and bought it
Finally went legit, no more going on the run
All the shit that I done did
God forgive me when I come
Gordon stay on a lake, that shit proper
It's a trip cause he getting
Rich selling Urban Water
Gotta trust the process
I done made my own lane i'm looking good
I know it's hard for you to digest
They using my identity, but they dissing me
I'm God and these niggas like Judas
They been killing me
All this pressure sitting up
Under these palm trees
If I gotta watch then you
For sure gotta watch me
Yeah, that's pistol grip poetry
Extended clip
I'll for sure put a hole in him
Yeah, cha-cha make 'em backflip
Thought I had a homie
But them niggas always catfish
Shout out to my people
In them concrete caskets
On the phone calling home for a package
Tell my nigga Swiss
"Won't be long 'fore you back again
We turning up, but this time
I'm having Ms" yeah, that's motion
I won't let 'em trick me out my spot
Bro I'm focused
I still got my soul and my heart
I ain't sold it
I pray to God that niggas don't
Make me have to smoke 'em
I pray to God that niggas don't
Make me have to smoke 'em
But if I do, fuck it
It's pistol grip poetry