Damn... look how mutha fucka's using nigga
just use me for whatever the fuck
they want.
i don't get to say shit. just grab me just do
what the fuck they want.
sell me throw away, niggas just don't
give a fick about a nigga like me
right..... like i'm a gun shit just like i'm a
mutha fuckin't gun.
i can't believe this shit.
word up.
i seen some cold nights and bloody days
they grab me bullets spray.
they use me wrong so i sing this song 'til
this day.
my body is cold steel for real.
i was made to kill that's why they keep
me concealed.
under car seats they sneak me in clubs,
been in the hands of the mad thugs,
they feed me when they load me with
mad slugs
seventeen precisely one in my head,
they call me desert eagle semi~auto
with lead.
i'm seven inches four pounds been
through so many towns, ohio to
little rock to canarsie living harshly.
beat up and battered, they pull me out
i watch this nigga scattered making me
kill, but what i feel it never mattered,
when i'm empty i'm quiet finding myself
fienin' to be fired.
broken safety niggas place me in shelves
under beds
so i beg for my next owner to be a
thoroughbred
keep me filled with hollow heads.
chorus:
how you like me now i go plow what's that
shit that moves grouds
making every ghetto foul. i might have
took your first child
scarred your life, crippled your style i
gave you power
i made you buck wild.
always i'm in some shit, my abdomen
is the clip
the barrel is my dick uncircumcised
pull my skin back and cock me i bust off
when they unlock me, results of what
happens when niggas shock me
i see niggas bleedin' runnin' from me
in fear
stunningly tears fall down the eyes
of these so~called tough guys
for years i've been used in robberies
giving niggas heart to follow me
placing people in graves funerals made
'cause i was sprayed
i was laid in a shelf with a grenade met a
wrecked~up tech
with numbers on his chest that say
5209385 zero
had a serial to face hoping one day police
would place
where he came from a name or some sort
of person to claim him
tired of murdering made him want to be
a plain gun.
but yo' i had some other plans like the
next time the beef is on
i make myself jam right in my
owners hand.
chorus
yo weeks went by and i'm surprised
still stuck in a shelf with all the things
that an outlaw hides besides me its
bullets two veses and a nine
there's a grenade in a box and the tech
that kept cryin'
'cause he ain't been cleaned in a year
he rusty a clear, he's about to fall
to pieces
'cause of his murder career.
yo i can hear somebody coming in open