Gun Clap Music Lyrics
| Song | Gun Clap Music |
| Artist | Onyx |
| Album | Triggernometry |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Onyx | |
| Walkin down the street with my, glock in my hand | |
| No safety, you know it and our guns don't jam | |
| Keep one in the hand and no need for cockin | |
| When niggaz start the poppin them shells get to droppin [Chorus x2] | |
| Fuck rap music, this is gun clap music | |
| Fuck rap music, this is gun clap music | |
| Fuck rap music, this is gun clap music | |
| Load it up, cock it back and blast to it [Fredro Starr] | |
| Yo, who shot ya? | |
| It's too late to try to operate | |
| Hard escape through | |
| New York State | |
| It's on killa, fuck all the niggaz that hate | |
| I can feel ya shook when ya walk through the gate | |
| Your heartbeat break like a | |
| Kay Slay tape | |
| Bust guns to this, raisin the crime rate | |
| Niggaz better blast when it's time to shoot | |
| Niggaz on the roof tryna blast at you | |
| See me in the six coupe, twins engine | |
| Skiddin, murder scene left, | |
| God ridden | |
| New guns, old guns, need to test those | |
| I burn, baby, burn like sniffin asbestos | |
| Bust low, reload and stay low | |
| I twist more caps than the 40 oco | |
| Bitches know, could tell by the look on the thug face | |
| The way they play it in the club, it ain't safe [Chorus] [Sonsee] | |
| A'yo I'm still not a hater but the heat'll spray ya | |
| Say hello to the bad guy, meet your creator | |
| Your gone, locked down streets in blocks down east | |
| Hopped out jeeps, knocked out teeth and chopped down beef | |
| With the boxpound heat, it's your option to die | |
| Poppin the nine at ten, then guns in the sky | |
| Grew up in the | |
| Stuy, peace to every ghetto | |
| Up in the x-sincos with my niggaz from | |
| Queens wit heavy metal | |
| Drug raps through the | |
| PJ's, ki's and trees, now we payin | |
| DA's Gettin paid from three ways | |
| Who wanna die? | |
| It won't cost you a dollar | |
| Get your boys to follow of course you still gonna holla | |
| Money I'm sick, keep puttin clips in them rugers | |
| And spit, you couldn't measure my fifth with six rulers | |
| Hold up killer, | |
| I'm all about gettin loot | |
| And when I cock back duke | |
| I'm givin glock tattoo [Chorus] [Sticky Fingaz] | |
| Some say the bigger the gun, the more damage it do | |
| I say the smaller the pistol, the better it shoot | |
| I give a holla to my niggaz in warfare | |
| Sticky don't care, if don't nobody else care | |
| And um, I'm always quick to reach for the glock | |
| So if you run up in my spot motherfuckers get shot | |
| In these streets niggaz drivin fives gettin set up | |
| Forgive but don't forget your benz'll get wet up | |
| Niggaz come around frontin, don't believe 'em | |
| You ain't no killer you be layin there bleedin | |
| Cause nigga you know me | |
| Don't make me blast you up and snatch your ass out the b | |
| And bitch niggaz don't blast back | |
| They like ladies, they take their ice chains to the casket | |
| And since we all came from the hood | |
| Got our name from the hood and our game from the hood | |
| I think it's time to kill for our good, time to heal our hood | |
| Be real to our hood | |
| And if we don't we'll have a race of babies | |
| That'll take 380's to school and get crazy | |
| And to my sons tryna make ones | |
| Sellin cracks on the blocks, watch out when the jake comes | |
| And to my real thugs get up, | |
| I know you fed up niggaz | |
| But keep ya guns up [Chorus] |
| zuo qu : Onyx | |
| Walkin down the street with my, glock in my hand | |
| No safety, you know it and our guns don' t jam | |
| Keep one in the hand and no need for cockin | |
| When niggaz start the poppin them shells get to droppin Chorus x2 | |
| Fuck rap music, this is gun clap music | |
| Fuck rap music, this is gun clap music | |
| Fuck rap music, this is gun clap music | |
| Load it up, cock it back and blast to it Fredro Starr | |
| Yo, who shot ya? | |
| It' s too late to try to operate | |
| Hard escape through | |
| New York State | |
| It' s on killa, fuck all the niggaz that hate | |
| I can feel ya shook when ya walk through the gate | |
| Your heartbeat break like a | |
| Kay Slay tape | |
| Bust guns to this, raisin the crime rate | |
| Niggaz better blast when it' s time to shoot | |
| Niggaz on the roof tryna blast at you | |
| See me in the six coupe, twins engine | |
| Skiddin, murder scene left, | |
| God ridden | |
| New guns, old guns, need to test those | |
| I burn, baby, burn like sniffin asbestos | |
| Bust low, reload and stay low | |
| I twist more caps than the 40 oco | |
| Bitches know, could tell by the look on the thug face | |
| The way they play it in the club, it ain' t safe Chorus Sonsee | |
| A' yo I' m still not a hater but the heat' ll spray ya | |
| Say hello to the bad guy, meet your creator | |
| Your gone, locked down streets in blocks down east | |
| Hopped out jeeps, knocked out teeth and chopped down beef | |
| With the boxpound heat, it' s your option to die | |
| Poppin the nine at ten, then guns in the sky | |
| Grew up in the | |
| Stuy, peace to every ghetto | |
| Up in the xsincos with my niggaz from | |
| Queens wit heavy metal | |
| Drug raps through the | |
| PJ' s, ki' s and trees, now we payin | |
| DA' s Gettin paid from three ways | |
| Who wanna die? | |
| It won' t cost you a dollar | |
| Get your boys to follow of course you still gonna holla | |
| Money I' m sick, keep puttin clips in them rugers | |
| And spit, you couldn' t measure my fifth with six rulers | |
| Hold up killer, | |
| I' m all about gettin loot | |
| And when I cock back duke | |
| I' m givin glock tattoo Chorus Sticky Fingaz | |
| Some say the bigger the gun, the more damage it do | |
| I say the smaller the pistol, the better it shoot | |
| I give a holla to my niggaz in warfare | |
| Sticky don' t care, if don' t nobody else care | |
| And um, I' m always quick to reach for the glock | |
| So if you run up in my spot motherfuckers get shot | |
| In these streets niggaz drivin fives gettin set up | |
| Forgive but don' t forget your benz' ll get wet up | |
| Niggaz come around frontin, don' t believe ' em | |
| You ain' t no killer you be layin there bleedin | |
| Cause nigga you know me | |
| Don' t make me blast you up and snatch your ass out the b | |
| And bitch niggaz don' t blast back | |
| They like ladies, they take their ice chains to the casket | |
| And since we all came from the hood | |
| Got our name from the hood and our game from the hood | |
| I think it' s time to kill for our good, time to heal our hood | |
| Be real to our hood | |
| And if we don' t we' ll have a race of babies | |
| That' ll take 380' s to school and get crazy | |
| And to my sons tryna make ones | |
| Sellin cracks on the blocks, watch out when the jake comes | |
| And to my real thugs get up, | |
| I know you fed up niggaz | |
| But keep ya guns up Chorus |
| zuò qǔ : Onyx | |
| Walkin down the street with my, glock in my hand | |
| No safety, you know it and our guns don' t jam | |
| Keep one in the hand and no need for cockin | |
| When niggaz start the poppin them shells get to droppin Chorus x2 | |
| Fuck rap music, this is gun clap music | |
| Fuck rap music, this is gun clap music | |
| Fuck rap music, this is gun clap music | |
| Load it up, cock it back and blast to it Fredro Starr | |
| Yo, who shot ya? | |
| It' s too late to try to operate | |
| Hard escape through | |
| New York State | |
| It' s on killa, fuck all the niggaz that hate | |
| I can feel ya shook when ya walk through the gate | |
| Your heartbeat break like a | |
| Kay Slay tape | |
| Bust guns to this, raisin the crime rate | |
| Niggaz better blast when it' s time to shoot | |
| Niggaz on the roof tryna blast at you | |
| See me in the six coupe, twins engine | |
| Skiddin, murder scene left, | |
| God ridden | |
| New guns, old guns, need to test those | |
| I burn, baby, burn like sniffin asbestos | |
| Bust low, reload and stay low | |
| I twist more caps than the 40 oco | |
| Bitches know, could tell by the look on the thug face | |
| The way they play it in the club, it ain' t safe Chorus Sonsee | |
| A' yo I' m still not a hater but the heat' ll spray ya | |
| Say hello to the bad guy, meet your creator | |
| Your gone, locked down streets in blocks down east | |
| Hopped out jeeps, knocked out teeth and chopped down beef | |
| With the boxpound heat, it' s your option to die | |
| Poppin the nine at ten, then guns in the sky | |
| Grew up in the | |
| Stuy, peace to every ghetto | |
| Up in the xsincos with my niggaz from | |
| Queens wit heavy metal | |
| Drug raps through the | |
| PJ' s, ki' s and trees, now we payin | |
| DA' s Gettin paid from three ways | |
| Who wanna die? | |
| It won' t cost you a dollar | |
| Get your boys to follow of course you still gonna holla | |
| Money I' m sick, keep puttin clips in them rugers | |
| And spit, you couldn' t measure my fifth with six rulers | |
| Hold up killer, | |
| I' m all about gettin loot | |
| And when I cock back duke | |
| I' m givin glock tattoo Chorus Sticky Fingaz | |
| Some say the bigger the gun, the more damage it do | |
| I say the smaller the pistol, the better it shoot | |
| I give a holla to my niggaz in warfare | |
| Sticky don' t care, if don' t nobody else care | |
| And um, I' m always quick to reach for the glock | |
| So if you run up in my spot motherfuckers get shot | |
| In these streets niggaz drivin fives gettin set up | |
| Forgive but don' t forget your benz' ll get wet up | |
| Niggaz come around frontin, don' t believe ' em | |
| You ain' t no killer you be layin there bleedin | |
| Cause nigga you know me | |
| Don' t make me blast you up and snatch your ass out the b | |
| And bitch niggaz don' t blast back | |
| They like ladies, they take their ice chains to the casket | |
| And since we all came from the hood | |
| Got our name from the hood and our game from the hood | |
| I think it' s time to kill for our good, time to heal our hood | |
| Be real to our hood | |
| And if we don' t we' ll have a race of babies | |
| That' ll take 380' s to school and get crazy | |
| And to my sons tryna make ones | |
| Sellin cracks on the blocks, watch out when the jake comes | |
| And to my real thugs get up, | |
| I know you fed up niggaz | |
| But keep ya guns up Chorus |
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