Quando Rondo - Gun Powder lyrics
Quando Rondo [Tyquian Terrel Bowman] Savannah, Georgia, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Quando Rondo - Gun Powder lyrics]
I don't know shit about no murder
Gotta keep my mouth closed
Just got a brand new Desert Eagle
With a cutter that fold
Shower in bleach, rip up the car
Make sure you burn all the clothes
My youngin' down to shoot to kill just
For a line of some coke
Sendin' texts to all the opps like
Yeah we want all the smoke
We up by six, they down by two
They need the go fix the score
Pop out wit' poles
Told 'em I won't spare no kids or no hoes
Foot on the pedal, heavy metal
Send some shots through yo' clothes
Take off his nose
None of my niggas gon' bend, break, or fold
Clutchin' cutters
Me and my brothers ridin' 'round smokin' dope
I got a drop on all the opps
Hope you don't think that you Low
This ain't no threat, bitch this a promise
When I catch you case closed
Money fold, dope sold
You caught a body but told
Spent 40 thousand on some diamonds
Got my mouth lookin' froze
You sippin ' lean, that's not prescription
Got 'em comin' by loads lord knows
Walk in the mall and spend
10 thousand on clothes
I don't know shit about no murder
Gotta keep my mouth closed
Just got a brand new Desert Eagle
With a cutter that fold
Shower in bleach, rip up the car
Make sure you burn all the clothes
My youngin down to shoot to kill just
For a line of some coke
Sendin' texts to all the opps like
Yeah we want all the smoke
We up by six, they down by two
They need the go fix the score
Pop out wit' poles
Told 'em I won't spare no kids or no hoes
Foot on the pedal, heavy metal
Send some shots through yo' clothes
I bought a chopper then I filled it up
I catch 'em, I'ma fill 'em up
Walk down, headshots, hit the corner
Rip 'em up
Y'all better listen to the words I say
We livin' in our last days
Point blank, proven
Ci-cigarettes and ash trays
I don't know shit about no murder
Gotta keep my mouth closed
Just got a brand new Desert Eagle
With a cutter that fold
Shower in bleach, rip up the car
Make sure you burn all the clothes
My youngin down to shoot to kill just
For a line of some coke
Sendin' texts to all the opps like
Yeah we want all the smoke
We up by six, they down by two
They need the go fix the score
Pop out wit' poles
Told 'em I won't spare no kids or no hoes
Foot on the pedal, heavy metal
Send some shots through yo' clothes
Grrrah, hahahaha haha, bitch, come here