whole hearts bleeding black, so I must go to hate the way My whole hearts bleeding black, so I must go to find a way, My Black whole hearts in half,
hear the truth My whole hearts bleeding black now I have you to blame for it My whole hearts bleeding black now I have you to hate for it My wrathful hearts
Spit in your face like pistol shit My style, wild like wipple whip I go back like a pistol grip It's pro-black, Kweli! [Chorus] w/o Kweli [Black Thought
The feeling of being 12 years old and waking up in the middle of the night and somebody in yo room. Yo heart starts beating so fast you can hear it pumping
on a bumpin Bitches want some they get a little some Of this cool ass mothafucka down to flow I just pick up the mic a pistol grip and fuck my hoe Like
spit forty-five caliber grammar At the speed of wind makes you bleed within Crack your skull, without penetratin your skin Reign of champ official, Wu scamp with black pistols
played rough He always cried When he told stories, he always lied A black brother Who was missin' the cool part He had the color But was missin' the true heart
[unverified] Sawed-off double barrel and a pistol grip Pump on my lap at all times I fill my gauge shells with nickels and dimes Thompson Center spittin' .45 slugs Black
, come see me with four eyes Young Grip, I'm a prize, prepare for you demise Recognize I put a hole in the local aforenor Nigga this is Coroner Gripsta
rock from the Bronx y'all know (Chorus) I only like my shit hardcore (Bazaro, Boogie down Bronx baby) I only like my shit hardcore (Grip) On the mic, Grip
how Pistol Pete say it The roof's on fire? Let the motherfucker burn Mo Thug, ThugLine, Bone Thug, it's your turn Slap these niggaz with a pistol grip
Call me psychotive but I'm bad, nigga yo And I'ma do ya bad, black And when I come, I'm bustin' up niggas to hear me, black Ya should of never let a nigga
option, have you felt a neck twist Cassette disc and wrist, meltdown your pistol mist Burnt to a crisp, bombaded my pistol grip Tongue gripped the nigga
Oh yeah, party people Here we go Party people, rock the house Ya'll want some more? Ya'll want some more? Let me hear ya say 'yeah' Let me hear ya say
the young black male in this black hell And I can tell, no matter the weather That you and Tupac got yo' shit together California Love With my hands gripped
', murder (Murder, murder) Robbin', shootin', killin', murder (Murder, murder) Hennied up, ginnied up, ski mask, black truck Dickey outfit, passenger side, pistol grip
works But I always understood why the girls twerk For a baller not a 9 to 5 Barely makin' it with disgust behind your eyes So I just, grip my piece,
