Gun Talk lyrics
by RM (UK)
[Intro]
(Legendary made this one)
[Verse 1: Ard Adz]
Me and heat lickin' bare banks (hella dem)
Ever been surrounded by bare shanks (bare shanks)
You're on your own akh and there's bare man
And you think f*ck it, I'll scrap it with my bare hands
Come around ere', you see bare straps (Bare straps)
I go around there, I see bare blanks (Bare blanks)
What you talkin' bout bread, I got bare stack
Guys don't want the hand tings gettin' bare back
Real bad man, man are real mad man (Mad man)
And I wheel round dere' like a real cab man
I turn a Opp boy to a real sad man (Sad man)
And I'm really on war like a rеal Afghan
[Verse 2: RM]
R6, Golf R's, both of them will do the job
I just slide up, do a mazza, thеn I'm movin' off
Put your tints down when you're tryna come through the block
You can get intercepted by the shooter squad (G-Grahh)
When you're a real g, you ain't gotta act it
n*ggas thought I weren't OJ til' I slapped it
pus*y try violate man and got his back hit
Should've thought twice about f*ckin' with this gang ting
Don't try and come around ere' with your chest out (True)
Seen a mans intestine get cheffed out
Man talk crud but they rah' just a let down
Clips half full and it still holds 10 rounds
If I see Opps on my block, I'ma' spray that
One shot from the .44 make you breakdance
Fear no man, I'll stick it on your main man (True)
I did four slide outs with the same strap
[Verse 3: Ard Adz]
I hit a mans crib and he's stuttering
Hit a show with this big wap or the cutter in (Got the cutter in)
Then I hit a lick, bring my brothers in (Alla dem')
Shanks out and he got the juice like my brother Grinch
Tell me what you want, what you tellin' me?
Ever see a man deep-fried like Tennessee
Catch a man waved off the Hennessey
Strap slap well, it was made in the 70's (Old school)
[Verse 4: RM]
Spin hold 6 so I burst 4
German Luger, it came from the first war (Bow, bow)
Dargs on obo tryna serve raw
Put my shank in then I twist so it hurts more (Twist)
Big moves so I tell my akh's come through
Straight gun shots, where you goin' with your Kung Fu
You ain't a roadman, you're a good yute
Kick the front door, tell my yg's to run through (Run tru')