Rick Ross

Rick Ross - Gunplay lyrics

Your rating:
(feat. Gunplay)




I'm sittin at the table, countin' my money

Ain't where I wanna be but I got a few hundreds

A lot of talk on the streets like a nigga crossin' me

Well, that's somethin' I gotta see



Is it how my chain swings? Tired of ma face

Tellin' lies, getting niggas wives tied up and raped

Similar to da mob, deeper than a rap

All you niggas gettin' robbed, all the cell phones tapped



Bullet in my head, bullet in my chest

Yeah, they want a nigga dead, they envy my success

To be loved, to be loved, oh what a feelin'

Hundred rounds in da drum



Niggas gettin whacked, no sympathy for the soft

Niggas snitchin', I know bitches who clippin' your dick off

I'ma boss champagne with the steak

Pink rose jay sittin' ace by da case



Brisco line, 2 young niggas, what it do

He gotta pretty shone and he wanna bring her through

That's love, we go back to the blue house

And if she bad enough, may take her to da new house



My Maserati be da new body

Got your girl panties wetter than a pool party

I got her sleepin' in the king size

Last night I had tha bitch sittin' ring side



You wanna go that route, go there

I been on this road before

(Uh, huh)

I know gunplay, you know gunplay

(Yeah)



I'm shootin for the win but ready for the loss

Both bags on the tip on my finger

Yellin' bring it, I'm swingin' dat iron

(Dat iron)

When I'm swingin' dat iron

(Dat iron)



Ain't thinkin' 'bout time

Ain't thinkin' 'bout mine

Ain't thinkin' bout dying



My nigga so street, my swisha so sweet

All this money on the table, how a nigga gon' sleep

Speculations on my deal, it was over ten mil

Blowin' herb, chauffer plus home in New Zeal through



Beat the case like Gotti, we the Trill Murder Inc

I erased, slip and slide, they rainy in the mink

Look dead in her eye, it's da end of the road

In the purple Maybach means dat I'm getting' more dough



Smell the Christian Dior, I used to be poor

When you cross Florida lines, boy, I'm your leor

Boobi Boys steal, Boobi Boy's real

You can name a lot of lames that the Boobi Boys killed



Brisco line to young nigga, what it do

Said he gotta couple kilos and he wanna bring 'em through

That's love, we go back to da blue house

And if he brought enough I may buy me a new house



You wanna go that route, go there

I been on this road before

(Uh, huh)

I know gunplay, you know gunplay

(Yeah)

I'm shootin for the win but ready for the loss

Both bags on the tip on my finger



Yellin' bring it, I'm swingin' dat iron

(Dat iron)

When I'm swingin' dat iron

(Dat iron)



Ain't thinkin' 'bout time

Ain't thinkin' 'bout mine

Ain't thinkin' bout dying



Nigga how I'm livin', damn near dying

For every digit I get, fuck they know 'bout that

I aint never put shit on the line, just shit in they rhyme

I shoot a nigga shit on a rhyme



Wanna bet nigga, you ain't a threat nigga

Never seen a laptop in da projects nigga

Just powder, cut with comet, fuck them comics

Convicts and buyin' it, if they ain't coppin' or fryin' it



Then don't get a nigga fired up behind sum

Fuck shit, ma nigga don't want this

Who dat, who dat behind the curtain

I'll merk 'em, wizard of oz niggas



Hiding behind money, hiding behind luxury

I see 'em shootin' up all that fuck shit

It's getting' ugly, got torch on the line

Said he got a couple nuns, I told him

Grab two koo, bring 'em on through



You wanna go that route, go there

I been on this road before

(Uh, huh)

I know gunplay, you know gunplay

(Yeah)



I'm shootin for the win but ready for the loss

Both bags on the tip on my finger

Yellin' bring it, I'm swingin' dat iron

(Dat iron)

When I'm swingin' dat iron

(Dat iron)



Ain't thinkin' 'bout time

Ain't thinkin' 'bout mine

Ain't thinkin' bout dying
Get this song at:
bol.com
amazon.com

Copyrights:

Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: ?

Details:

Language: English

Share your thoughts

This form is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.

0 Comments found