Royce da 5'9", Tre Little, T-DOT - Gone in 30 Seconds lyrics

(yeah) So you talkin about me
So you can get known
'Til the 9's is out flyin
Out with the split bones
I learned you just talkin, it's just a song
Your words will not turn to sticks and stone
Don't worry about murder my mob won't do it
Only worries is worryin how I'm gon' do it
That mouth you got, it'll create yo' hype
And you might wanna watch it cause
It could save yo' life

I don't mess with what I can't
Leave in less than thirty seconds
You will rest in a box in back
Of a hearse if I feel threatened
You got your vest on but I don't know why
Cause my AK say it's just a shirt
You be bench-pressin the earth and
Not blastin or askin questions, first



Yeah c'mon, yeah mIC
Of all I'm a gangsta, the album is scary
I'm Malcolm, I'll get down if necessary
(necessary) by any means - in which
You breathe in the mic is the reason
You left with a skinny team
This 9 rings, settin 'em straight the rest
I'll show 'em what the five
Fingers said to the face
If, act hard and you will head for the Gates
And I don't mean the one in
Your backyard I'm talkin Pearly
Christians call it sinnin
(yeah) Muslims call it winnin
And witnesses call me worldly (worldly)
This life is full of the type of nigga
That'll pull out a gun or a knife
Do it and run off in the night
We specialize in the truest to ever ride
You slip you lose your life
You blew it like a breathilizer
Asbestos flames come out of his mouth
He a rider the next best thing to the
Mafia and my motto is

Yeah rock Bottom nigga, yeah
T-Dot nigga, yeah, the MIC

Spittin real life from this shit
AK rifle with clips is chrome with
The knife on the tip
Or two 9's sit right on my hip
That'll light up your strip
And if you drivin let 'em die in your whip
Moms cryin and shit, fuck talk
Better duck the lead
Cause them bullets poppin out the
Toaster like Wonder bread
Rhyme with your Lex out
Chief in ex' house beaten
When I whip tecs out you stressed out bleedin
Wife and kids get X'ed out even
Kill stress out
Catch 'em leavin while I'm in
The next house squeezin
Stop breathin when barettas be spittin
I never be missin
We actin like the gun law never resistant
(whoa) see I laugh when niggas be stuntin
Cause one flick of a button'll pop the
Stash and the triggers be thumpin
Dumpin niggas ain't killin right
Dealers ain't dealin right
Fuck the mic, real life
This is what I'm feelin like (like)

Uhh d-Elite nigga, yeah
Tre Little nigga, yeah, c'mon, yeah

So you talkin about me so you can get known
'Til the 9's is out flyin
Out with the split bones
I learned you just talkin, it's just a song
Your words will not turn to sticks and stone
Don't worry about murder my mob won't do it
Only worries is worryin how I'm gon' do it
That mouth you got, it'll create yo' hype
And you might wanna watch it cause
It could save yo' life

Yo, whatever homie
You can go and take that chain off
Respect the pistol, it's official
Little got them thangs out
I hang out at bars where
Shots ring out at cars
I game all your broads like, "Ho
Come with a star" (c'mon)
E'rybody know me, well at least in the D
Gotta be top three Gordy, Zeke or me
Arrogant as a fuck, like "Damn
I match my truck"
Gun and chain ain't tucked
You don't wanna run up (you don't want it)
Yeah, it's just not worth it
I got stripes like a zebra
Make you run like a cheetah
I don't mind if we meet up
Your neck a lil' froze
Then let me turn the heat up
Burger and the beef up
I'm like Kain when I creep up
Hold me down, run them sneakers
Homie I don't know your people
Yeah I'm bout to fly my eagle man
And I don't care what y'all
Say in these streets
We deep, D-Elite'll Nyquil you to sleep, yeah

Yeah, uhh, yeah
Yeah, yeah this that shit right here K
Yeah, shooter music nigga
We call this shooter music

Uh huh, yea royce fever nina, T-Dot range
Tre Little, Rock Bottom mIC, yeah