Kuniva
Kuniva - Gut Shots 3 lyrics
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I'm with my boys in the hood, spitting the filth You... swinging, in the air Nigga please, a renegade on the mike You never rhyme right Yeah I'm hard to death, my barcode as a client's life Rip a rapper to shreds, shoot in and let the cake cry Sing you to the... for trying to snatch my yays off Prolly... when I'm blazing your whole pad up Strip you naked in the spot, portion of bad luck I was down nigga, I'm back up Homie back up, Get your little soft ass smacked up either clapped up Kuniva's a rebel who hired the rebel Supplying the shovel to my people After I fired the medal, bitch You rocking stilettos, I'm on another level You talk chop when you get confronted you Backpedal, a maniac with the bars A brainiac and because I was taught by bank proofs spraying hammers and jobs A dirty dozen... slap a rap rapper dead in his mouse Pray in his house,... his spouse I don't care who's there before you at the mouse Leave you both sprayed on the couch... mouth Enough bad talk, my lyrics alone kill on contact When it's time for dirt, niggas asking where Kuniva at Homie, we ain't family, don't even bother to speak to mine Laying bodies side by side looks like they equal sign I hear them whispering "another one crazy He's unapproachable, is that that same robber from shining" You damn right, you know my 8 time platinum dick I'm a fat ugly bitch dildo, I'm back in this bitch Fucking respect my son looking me Like I'm the shit, nigga My wife a real rap critics that I can spit She... dick, serious, baby you sick But she might be a little... because of the dick, haha Cheesy laugh, don't ask about my group nigga We all family so you can get the shit without making it You one of the people who never did shit ... wig, split up, who bust a shell of your wih You wanna know the date you won't feel nigga What's the use of spitting lyrical shit It's only 3rd grade grammar that I'm killing you with Never tend minded, smooth criminal Homie I would... walk in your house Pimping your woman, some used genitals Backpack rapping the g shit I choose to do it all, even fuck the police shit I post it up... handcuff you a bitch Oh you still talking shit Like bitches can get the dick The same niggas who helped your hip hop selling mill It's funny how everybody talking bout doing bills We did it, them bitches were saying it wasn't real Like it wasn't created the same that we lack skill But you can live Now I drown in my enemy sink My guns hyper over 5 hour energy drink Get found dead, chickens get to blowing That's the true meaning of hip hop there Now shake up... in your dreams, upper cutting you And you so pissy, you probably gonna wake up bleeding My motto for any emcee or dj Grab a... break it on your face, bash it instant replay It's all good, aim for the stars It's okay if you miss, At least you'll hit someone not on the entourage The hip hop devil's inside and hard to get out of It's crazy people thinking you'll end up felon without it It's just me homie I don't face but thug All you'll be a text message typing hurt with a mug Told you once before nigga that this ain't all rap I'm bout to slap on a nigga,... I ain't playing a game... and watch they brain splat Marauder!