BUILDING BLUEPRINT
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Lyrical Analysis of...
Gun Ballad
- Call me the fuckin milkman, cause I’m boutta hit your block
- Strapped up in a car seat, we finna spin on the opps
- Sitting in the passenger, you can say I called shotgun
- Finger on the pin, yeah I’m ready to deliver some toxin
- Cause you know that shit coiled like a motherfuckin viper
- I’m basically a reptile, cause I’m a cold blooded sniper
- And I bring all the fuckin venom when I pull the trigger and fire
- Constrict and reload that shit, and then I proceed to strike ya
- Those bullets in slow motion look like miniature rockets
- Got myself a handful of bodies, skeletons in my closet
- But none of this shit phases me, I got money in my pocket
- Violence is my fucking blood type so I ain’t never stoppin
- Because I’m getting my green from painting the block red
- Clips loaded like stacks, I’m leaving enemies dead
- Got an opp in the torso and now his ass full of lead
- Left that bitch in the dust while he cried out and bled
- Leaving a trail of guts like evil Hansel and Gretel
- This is gang shit, I’m putting the pedal to the metal
- Opps can’t counter my attacks, I cut sharp like a bevel
- Cause this is gang shit and I ain’t never gonna settle
- I got the Glock locked, cocked, ready to pop
- I’m boutta spin your block, make it hot at any spot
- Never gonna stop till you hear the tick tock and drop
- Hear the shot and remember to me you’re just another opp
- I’m whippin out the steel, these bullets make you squeal
- Cause the pain gonna be real, you gonna hit a slump and kneel
- Show you not to step in my field, this chrome got appeal
- Shoulda brought a shield, cause now you’re never gonna heal
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