Letras:
Burning Heads Get That Gun Off My Chest

, You shit your pants knee deep, Get that gun off my chest, It's in your best interest, I keep my self control but i'm scared inside, Put that gun away

again The Rippers at your service, girl I can see that your nervous But I barely scratch the surface, like my last batch of girlfriends That I buried in my

when the times get ugly When the wheels fall off and the tires stop running The magazine empty and the nine stop busting I bang my fist till my palms get

! I'm from uptown... and that ain't no Beverly Hills You wan' know what that be like? Well, curiousity kills Send chills up my trigga finger, blast tha

m writin exact on my axis From my head down to my Air Max's Phil waxes and relaxs Phil also fills up mental food up in your ?deadly gases? My name is

t admit that Niggaz want some get back, I know it so I get strapped Suckas took they laws off, these hoes want my draws off Cuz tried to foul me, but

is back again The rippers at your service Girl I can see that your nervous But I barely scratch the surface Like my last batch of girlfriends That I buried in my

's the Meth Came to represent and carve my name in your chest You can come test realize you're no contest Son, I'm the gun that won that old Wild West

my chest like whatever. Words fit together like drugs and fiends, Full flippin and machine gun and submarines. Lettin off rounds, never soft sounds with my