Too $hort, Joyner Lucas, Schoolboy Q - Don’t Shoot lyrics
Schoolboy Q [Quincy Matthew Hanley] Wiesbaden, West Germany/South Central LA, CA, U.S. 🇩🇪 🇺🇸
[Too $hort, Joyner Lucas, Schoolboy Q - Don’t Shoot lyrics]
The world don't love us and
The hood be hating
Destroy the minds of the kids we raising
Babies having and killing babies
The cops patrol daily when they made me
This lil nigga drive Mercedes, huh
They wanna take my fingerprint even
Though my license be straight
They think it's fake, my name regis-straight
They want me riled up and catch a case
Said I resisted to a heavyweight
And said I attacked 'em when
I get shattered face
Bruh I'm just tryna feed my daughter eggs
Working late at 12 hour rate
Nigga gotta escape i'm shakin' this place
No matter how many damn L's I take
Or F's I get, we strive for excellence
The cops supposed to protect the streets
But who protecting us from them?
My pen got me above the rim
Black creative mind jumping out the gym
Life flashed cause your Dayton don't spin
Hands up, 'fore they take one out again
Hey now, don't shoot hands up, don't shoot
Too drunk, don't shoot headshot, don't shoot
What you really know about the people?
You don't really know about the people
You don't even know what make
The pain go away
No, you don't really understand the peaceful
You can't even figure how to see folk
Can you even feel what we say?
You motherfuckers want some
Everywhere I go they banging
Where you from? What you claimin'?
Bitch ass nigga, you wish you could
Throw your set up in the
Air and bang your hood you from the ghetto
They don't know you on my turf
Bang right now, get your bitch ass murked
In the club turning up
Better not throw it up
Gang politics bout to get you fucked up
Always twistin' up your fingers
Lil homie right behind you
He a real gang banger
No tattoo tears but he a hitter
You just a tough motherfucker on Twitter
Don't get caught up in the crossfire, nigga
You throwin' signs up
He got his hand on the trigger
You on your phone 'bout to lose
Your life to a shooter
Get killed for some shit that
You typed on a computer, bitch!
Joyner, yeah, yeah, hol' up, hol' up
Look, I used to wake up in the morning
Had to work and catch the bus (Joyner)
Just me and my sister
No one sitting next to us (Next)
I was dropping music but I
Couldn't catch a buzz
Used to do it cause I need
It now I do it just because
This is my director's cut, Tarantino (Woah)
I need you to point me to the plug, Al Pacino
(Hey) i don't trust you suckers with
Your hobbies, that ain't me, though
(That ain't me, though)
Bunch of undercovers
Y'all some Bobby Valentino
This that East Coast, this that heat though
This that kilo
This that Migos, Bad and Boujee shit
That freak show
This that peep hole, I see through y'all
This that repo
Take your bitch and play some Keno
I'm a hero, Captain Save-A-Hoe in Speedos
I speed through y'all, this that speed boat
I found Nemo
Hope if they shoot me they ready to kill
They doing life and they ready to squeal
Bitch I'm the devil, you're not on my level
And you 'bout to find out if heaven is real
I know y'all dead shot
Got roaming the plastic
Get left in the grass when
I run through your field
What they gone do, put them heaters on you
Niggas screaming "Don't shoot" when we
All in your grill (Joyner, Joyner, yeah)
Hey now, don't shoot hands up, don't shoot
Too drunk, don't shot headshot, don't shoot
What you really know about the people?
You don't really know about the people
You don't even know what make
The pain go away
No, you don't really understand the peaceful
You can't even figure how to see folk
Can you even feel what we say?
The hood be hating
Destroy the minds of the kids we raising
Babies having and killing babies
The cops patrol daily when they made me
This lil nigga drive Mercedes, huh
They wanna take my fingerprint even
Though my license be straight
They think it's fake, my name regis-straight
They want me riled up and catch a case
Said I resisted to a heavyweight
And said I attacked 'em when
I get shattered face
Bruh I'm just tryna feed my daughter eggs
Working late at 12 hour rate
Nigga gotta escape i'm shakin' this place
No matter how many damn L's I take
Or F's I get, we strive for excellence
The cops supposed to protect the streets
But who protecting us from them?
My pen got me above the rim
Black creative mind jumping out the gym
Life flashed cause your Dayton don't spin
Hands up, 'fore they take one out again
Hey now, don't shoot hands up, don't shoot
Too drunk, don't shoot headshot, don't shoot
What you really know about the people?
You don't really know about the people
You don't even know what make
The pain go away
No, you don't really understand the peaceful
You can't even figure how to see folk
Can you even feel what we say?
You motherfuckers want some
Everywhere I go they banging
Where you from? What you claimin'?
Bitch ass nigga, you wish you could
Throw your set up in the
Air and bang your hood you from the ghetto
They don't know you on my turf
Bang right now, get your bitch ass murked
In the club turning up
Better not throw it up
Gang politics bout to get you fucked up
Always twistin' up your fingers
Lil homie right behind you
He a real gang banger
No tattoo tears but he a hitter
You just a tough motherfucker on Twitter
Don't get caught up in the crossfire, nigga
You throwin' signs up
He got his hand on the trigger
You on your phone 'bout to lose
Your life to a shooter
Get killed for some shit that
You typed on a computer, bitch!
Joyner, yeah, yeah, hol' up, hol' up
Look, I used to wake up in the morning
Had to work and catch the bus (Joyner)
Just me and my sister
No one sitting next to us (Next)
I was dropping music but I
Couldn't catch a buzz
Used to do it cause I need
It now I do it just because
This is my director's cut, Tarantino (Woah)
I need you to point me to the plug, Al Pacino
(Hey) i don't trust you suckers with
Your hobbies, that ain't me, though
(That ain't me, though)
Bunch of undercovers
Y'all some Bobby Valentino
This that East Coast, this that heat though
This that kilo
This that Migos, Bad and Boujee shit
That freak show
This that peep hole, I see through y'all
This that repo
Take your bitch and play some Keno
I'm a hero, Captain Save-A-Hoe in Speedos
I speed through y'all, this that speed boat
I found Nemo
Hope if they shoot me they ready to kill
They doing life and they ready to squeal
Bitch I'm the devil, you're not on my level
And you 'bout to find out if heaven is real
I know y'all dead shot
Got roaming the plastic
Get left in the grass when
I run through your field
What they gone do, put them heaters on you
Niggas screaming "Don't shoot" when we
All in your grill (Joyner, Joyner, yeah)
Hey now, don't shoot hands up, don't shoot
Too drunk, don't shot headshot, don't shoot
What you really know about the people?
You don't really know about the people
You don't even know what make
The pain go away
No, you don't really understand the peaceful
You can't even figure how to see folk
Can you even feel what we say?