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Gangsta Shit Lyrics

from Beg For Mercy

"Gangsta Shit" is track #17 on the album Beg For Mercy. It was written by Brown, David Darnell / Lloyd, Christopher Charles / Gabbidon, Basil Glendon / Hinds, David / Brown, Selwyn Delrainze / Martin, Alfonso / Mcqueen, Ronnie / Nesbitt, Steve / Riley, Michael / Jackson, Curtis James.
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"Gangsta Shit" is track #17 on the album Beg For Mercy. It was written by Brown, David Darnell / Lloyd, Christopher Charles / Gabbidon, Basil Glendon / Hinds, David / Brown, Selwyn Delrainze / Martin, Alfonso / Mcqueen, Ronnie / Nesbitt, Steve / Riley, Michael / Jackson, Curtis James.
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Yeah, niggas talkin' all that gangsta shit
Acting like my money ain't no good in the hood
You know what I mean?
Fuckin' head blown off nigga, you know?

They, they talkin' that, that gangsta shit, they ain't about that
Man, matter of fact hand me my strap
Show me where they at, I'll stop 'em from talkin' like that

They, they talkin' that, that gangsta shit, they ain't about that
Man, matter of fact hand me my strap
Show me where they at, I'll stop 'em from talkin' like that

I'm the talk that hit every barbershop and beauty salon
'Cause these other niggas that rap ain't on the shit that I'm on
'Cause 50 this, 50 that, 50 stay with a gat
Thirty-two shots in the clip, hollow tips in the Mack

But when I come through, shh, the talkin' stop
My money long now, I can make the Pope get shot
Now, we can blow an hour talkin' 'bout the stones I rock
All the hoes I got, 'cause he stunts in the drop

Now, naw, you love the kids, 50 on that killa shit
That been mobbed the bad man, bitchy as guerrilla shit
I'm market my music like diesel on the block
So if you with me you gon' eat and you gon' starve if you not

Weed smokers love me like they love Buddha
I'll send your kids through the shooter
Crip niggas love me like they love Hoova
They tell me see careful good, 'cause niggas wanna see like you
They ain't used to a G like you, blam

They, they talkin' that, that gangsta shit, they ain't about that
Man, matter of fact hand me my strap
Show me where they at, I'll stop 'em from talkin' like that

They, they talkin' that, that gangsta shit, they ain't about that
Man, matter of fact hand me my strap
Show me where they at, I'll stop 'em from talkin' like that

You think you a killer but we gon' just pay 'em a visit
Put the potato on the barrel so nobody hear it
I keep a holster on my shoulder like I'm John Wayne
Shootin' these niggas lights out like Lebron James

Holla my name, gimme a reason to see you bleedin'
After you feel these hollow tips, nigga, then we eatin'
Full of anger until there's no more bullets in the chamber
Ain't nothin' like when you get popped and don't know who to blame a

Nigga told me, "Do your dirt all by your lonely"
So I go hit them niggas 'fore 50 couldn't even hold me
I'm waitin', anticipatin' to put a nigga under
Smokin' like we some Jamaicans fuckin' with this ganja

Ride with no hesitation, retaliation is a must
Bad as I want to, some shit I just don't discuss
So point him out and watch how I knock him off
Everywhere you bitches go, I got a nigga watchin' ya'll, motherfucker

They, they talkin' that, that gangsta shit, they ain't about that
Man, matter of fact hand me my strap
Show me where they at, I'll stop 'em from talkin' like that

They, they talkin' that, that gangsta shit, they ain't about that
Man, matter of fact hand me my strap
Show me where they at, I'll stop 'em from talkin' like that

Come on, nigga, I ain't here to make no friends, just cut the checks
I got a long pump that'll blow your stupid ass up the steps
Beggin' niggas don't understand though
Probably 'cause my hand glow when I'm anticipatin' the lambo

Lean out my bucket for niggas thinkin' they Rambo
You get one warnin' so I suggest you let your man know
These rap niggas portray to be tough, nobody acting soft
'Til they laid out in the hospital, eatin' apple sauce

Usually for yappin' off and turn apologetic
Waving a white flag, the danger they might have
My niggas buyin' so much ammo
If you reach in the couch for loose change
You'll probably feel on the handle

Holdin' sixteens to get your bandages and broke bones
So I suggest you get alarm systems in both homes
There's only one team on top, we number one with a Glock
Fuck around and get your dumb ass shot

They, they talkin' that, that gangsta shit, they ain't about that
Man, matter of fact hand me my strap
Show me where they at, I'll stop 'em from talkin' like that

They, they talkin' that, that gangsta shit, they ain't about that
Man, matter of fact hand me my strap
Show me where they at, I'll stop 'em from talkin' like that

Songwriters
BROWN, DAVID DARNELL / LLOYD, CHRISTOPHER CHARLES / GABBIDON, BASIL GLENDON / HINDS, DAVID / BROWN, SELWYN DELRAINZE / MARTIN, ALFONSO / MCQUEEN, RONNIE / NESBITT, STEVE / RILEY, MICHAEL / JACKSON, CURTIS JAMES

Published by
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Royalty Network, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

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