Lil Wayne, Jae Millz, Gudda Gudda - Bang Bang lyrics

Bitch!
The Aphilliates, nigga, holla at your boy
Uh huh dJ Drama!
My lip all fucked up
You probably could hear it, like, on my
P's and my B's, but it's cool, fuck it
Gangsta! Get 'em!

Shooting 'til my motherfucking hand fall off
You're track stars the gunshot ran y'all off
(Gangsta)
I pop like a soda, watch the can fall off
I can kill y'all and y'all boss
(Gangsta Grillz, you bastards! Oh)

Shooting 'til my motherfucking hand fall off
You're track stars the gunshot ran y'all off
I pop like a soda, watch the can fall off
I can kill y'all and y'all boss
(Gangsta Gri-Zillz)
Shotguns, handguns, louder than a band drum
You fucking with the drum major
Let me play you the anthem (Oh)
Bang bang bang bang, call it heavy metal
I say, "Bang bang, " bitch
I make you feel every letter
B-a-n-g, b-a-n-g
G-A-N-G, we spray then leave
We play when we no, we play N-E- v-E-R C-P-R
Doctor Carter, are you the disease, boy?
Young Money, motherfucker, these these boys
Bitch is you crazy? We's retards
Watch Nina, Mac
And Tommy have a brief ménage
Like: (Gangsta, bang bang, bang bang)
Hehe! Like:
(bang bang, bang bang, Gangsta Gri-Zillz)
Hehe, yeah! Soulja Boy on the beat
But you can call me Chef Boyardee
'Cause I'ma heat this shit
And I'ma eat this shit
Planet Earth is my toilet
You're beneath this shit
Then I flush and wipe my
Ass gunslinger like a pass
I cock back and throw a bomb now, Hail Mary
You tale-fairy, fairytale, very frail
And yeah, we got them hammers
Tryna hit every nail
Let them sail up the river with that ho shit
Or leave them face down in the fucking ocean
Yeah i ain't on no other shit, bitch
I'm on some more shit that, "Hello
How you doing? I am at your front door" shit
That, "Aww, naww
He got a gun! Oh shit!" shit shit

Okay, it's Young Money
What you know 'bout it?
The semi-auto'll rip open your body and
Tear the soul out it
And all that fronting shit, nigga
I don't know about it
Call me Master Jae, bitch, I'm so 'bout it
Even my ho 'bout it, and don't doubt it
'Cause we both a-be Angelina-and-Brad'-ing
Spazzing and blasting
Blasting and ratatat-ing
And nah, I don't cook, but like potatoes
I a mash 'em i don't give a fuck about
Your money or your fashion
Shots through the window of
Your brand-new Aston
You get out, try to run
Now your chest where them bullets crashing
Pine box niggas, no crutches, no casts, and
No wheelchair, just the two door, long
Black wagon
Flowers on the side, and four wheels to steer
I ain't never scared, and I ain't never care
So fuck what they doing over there
I'm doing it here
You're nothing like me, fuckboy
Don't be outlandish we gorillas in the mist
Y'all just some "Kung Fu Pandas"
Sweet like Fantas, ha
My blood is the same as Bruce Banner's
Hit record on the cameras
Motherfuck all the bullshit and antics
They saying
"He ain't gotta get a clearance from Wayne"
That's a disadvantage
Being broke is a foreign language for me
Like Spanish musically, I direct thrillers
Call me John Landis

Hahaha gangsta Grillz, you bastards!
Fuck that nigga in the red jacket, nigga
Gangsta! Gangsta Gri-Zillz!

It's the 5-0-4 slaughterhouse bloodbath
Lil' nigga stand tall like a gi raffe
One man gang, animal, cannibal
Eat rappers for dinner
My nickname "Hannibal"
Guns for days, I show you what this cannon do
Hit you and split your
Motherfucking man in two
I grab the chopper southpaw
That’s how I hold the toy
I aim and crank that bitch like Soulja Boy
I’m in the streets one deep
I can hold my own
And shit, it’s only one seat
And I control the throne
Look, bitch, I’m on my crazy-ass shit
You see the gun poking
Out like Sheneneh lips, yeah
Watch your lips when talking
'Cause I be on your grave, nigga
Leaking in your coffin
Rest in piss! When I die
Let me rest with clips
Rambo, I’ma go on my Sylvester shit, bang!