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Square peg in a round hole I learned to do my dirt on the down low Had to make some moves that would sound bold But in that same dirt, I had found gold So they label me a scoundrel Guess I had a ruffle a couple feathers on my way up But I'm a hustler I didn't give a fuck if I gotta harm ya or muscle ya I been armed with the tools that we use in the trade of a renegade Thrive in a game, you're not able to penetrate I'm not the same as you, I'm tried and true This is something I died to do Part of learning how to fly Eventually, you hit the ground, crashin' But at the bottom of the pain I had found passion Though I been gone for a minute Now I'm back in it We either overcome the past or get trapped in it There's a lot of things in life I know We can go up so high and low A lot of things I left behind that I once called mine But I still got my gun My gun, my gun I still got my gun Songtexte Violently designed like the Trolls of Asgard Silencers the size of a grown man's arm Listen, the scope pivot like a cyclops Chrome so heavy the shooter had to use a tripod (Bong!) The pistol long like a pool stick Hammer hit the hollow like a baby in the womb kick Listen, visual verb, missile swerve, hit your herbs Feel the pistol burn, hit you like a whistling bird All it take is half a shotty for half your body to fly a half a block at your fuckin' block party Pussy, your every word have a period Your album comes with a free bo of tampons for serious My lyricism's the littyiest Carry the torch for Brooklyn like Sean P and Biggie did My demographic be Henny and Acid My algorithms are savage and my religion is madness There's a lot of things in life I know We can go up so high and low A lot of things I left behind that I once called mine But I still got my gun My gun, my gun I still got my gun Boko Haram, stay calm, strapped with a bomb Behind the mask of God, he can trap the divine I got numbers and statistics, it's a matter of time Imma hit him with the .50 paw, Shaq at the line And them fiends lined up, they be pacin' for days Had a yopper put a hole inside his cranial cave How the fuck you gon' walk into a maze in a daze Muthafuckas being deviant and say it's a phase This ain't fun and games over here, we make money And y'all is always gon' be second like Chase Utley This muthafucka think he the wolf, he the same puppy It's the same mask, same .45, and the same Duffy You are goofy homie, we was never meant to be cool I was taking people's shit in elementary school Feel it with both hands paw, read it in braille And the whopper always with me homie, Kenan and Kel Toma! There's a lot of things in life I know We can go up so high and low A lot of things I left behind that I once called mine But I still got my gun My gun, my gun I still got my gun Aus Songtexte Mania