Tha Bullet Lyrics
| Song | Tha Bullet |
| Artist | Celly Cel |
| Album | The Best Of Celly Cel |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Franklin, McCarver | |
| Sittin on the shelf, they got me stuck up in this box | |
| Choppin it up with the homies, havin visions of a glock 17 | |
| Niggas on my team can't wait to fill clip up | |
| We jumpin out the barrel with my niggas, shootin shit up | |
| See under niner ross, black talon, hollow tips flow | |
| Aim me at the chest, I'm makin sure that vest don't get no love | |
| Ain't even breathin, leave the body shittin like a seagull | |
| See I'm illegal, I got pockets like that ? eagle | |
| F**kin around with me is danger, I'm talkin shit | |
| Tryin to brainwash the trigger when I'm in the chamber | |
| Don't give a f**k if it's a accident or on purpose | |
| When I'm comin out the chamber, fool it's just inservice | |
| Don't get nervous when you see what I do | |
| I love to hit the target, and when I'm breakin that skin, ooh | |
| Travel through his heart, ricochét off the nearest bone | |
| Rip his insides up, shatter his spine, now I'm gone | |
| Layin by the body, waitin for the FEDS | |
| Swoop me up for evidence, then I'm just some melted led | |
| It ain't no thang, got me back where I started | |
| In a box, with my homies, waitin for my next target | |
| Ha ha ha, the mothaf**kin bullet | |
| Shootin up shit everywhere | |
| Every city in every state | |
| Don't give a f**k about who when the bullet fly | |
| The only thought that's on my mind is "die nigga, die" | |
| Ha ha ha | |
| But what do ya know, looks like I'm 'bout to be purchased again | |
| I seen a nigga ask for them black talons and grin | |
| It won't be long 'til they let me loose | |
| Got me in the clip, drinkin Gin with no f**kin juice | |
| It's goin down, I know they ridin on some fools tonight | |
| Hit the lights, squeeze the trigger, send me on my flight | |
| Don't give a f**k about who I hit when I fly | |
| The only thought that's on my mind is "die nigga, die" | |
| Women and children and babies, I know it's crazy | |
| See I'm a bullet, it's my job, man that shit don't faze me | |
| Even the hand that's on the trigger get shot too | |
| Wherever the barrel aiming at, that's who I end up smokin fool | |
| Don't get it twisted, I got no love for none of y'all | |
| Got to dig a tunnel through your head, and watch the body fall | |
| Just shoot and I'mma do the rest | |
| I love givin young niggas cardiac arrests | |
| Bullet-proof niggas, I go up in 'em quickly | |
| The ambulance picked him up with shit all in his Dickies | |
| Just cock the glock, put your finger on the trigger, pull it | |
| And make a mothaf**ka feel the bullet | |
| Ha ha ha, yeah | |
| Another victim of these mothaf**kin bullets | |
| Once we pull the trigger, don't get nervous | |
| 'cause it's instant mothaf**kin service | |
| Ha ha ha, yeah | |
| Breakin fools off every-mothaf**kin-day | |
| Ha ha ha | |
| Up out the chamber, it's that sneaky mothaf**ka creepin | |
| You heard a shot but didn't know until the blood was leakin | |
| Up out your chest, you seen your flesh was a bloody mess | |
| Dropped down on your knees, and ran outta breath | |
| Sentanced to your death | |
| Got hit by the wig splittin, shirt rippin, pistol wippin nigga | |
| Catchin 'em slippin when they set trippin | |
| Dippin and dabbin, you niggas know who I am, and | |
| Can't be f**kin with them faulty heaters that be jammin | |
| I love to fly and when they jam, I can't come out and kick it | |
| Just pick a target, point me at it and see how quick I hit it | |
| Droppin bodies by the dozens, in and out your cousins | |
| I'm burnin niggas like a oven, givin up no lovin | |
| ? with my dogs, ridin in a 50 round clip | |
| Ready to make the hit, talkin long shit, bitch | |
| Hit the floor before I hit the door and split ya with some heat | |
| Take your head and leave your body in the street | |
| As I creep, up on my next mothaf**kin victim | |
| Sweep him off his feet, pull the trigger, let me sick him | |
| Hit him high, hit him low, you know how it go | |
| Put your finger on the trigger, pull it, the mothaf**kin bullet | |
| Ha ha ha, the mothaf**kin bullet | |
| Mobbin through your hood and takin head | |
| Showin no mothaf**kin remorse | |
| We don't give a f**k about you | |
| The bullet, ha ha ha | |
| Sprayin up shit everywhere we go | |
| Don't give a f**k, layin men 6 feet on the regular | |
| Ha ha ha |
| zuo ci : Franklin, McCarver | |
| Sittin on the shelf, they got me stuck up in this box | |
| Choppin it up with the homies, havin visions of a glock 17 | |
| Niggas on my team can' t wait to fill clip up | |
| We jumpin out the barrel with my niggas, shootin shit up | |
| See under niner ross, black talon, hollow tips flow | |
| Aim me at the chest, I' m makin sure that vest don' t get no love | |
| Ain' t even breathin, leave the body shittin like a seagull | |
| See I' m illegal, I got pockets like that nbsp? eagle | |
| F kin around with me is danger, I' m talkin shit | |
| Tryin to brainwash the trigger when I' m in the chamber | |
| Don' t give a f k if it' s a accident or on purpose | |
| When I' m comin out the chamber, fool it' s just inservice | |
| Don' t get nervous when you see what I do | |
| I love to hit the target, and when I' m breakin that skin, ooh | |
| Travel through his heart, ricoche t off the nearest bone | |
| Rip his insides up, shatter his spine, now I' m gone | |
| Layin by the body, waitin for the FEDS | |
| Swoop me up for evidence, then I' m just some melted led | |
| It ain' t no thang, got me back where I started | |
| In a box, with my homies, waitin for my next target | |
| Ha ha ha, the mothaf kin bullet | |
| Shootin up shit everywhere | |
| Every city in every state | |
| Don' t give a f k about who when the bullet fly | |
| The only thought that' s on my mind is " die nigga, die" | |
| Ha ha ha | |
| But what do ya know, looks like I' m ' bout to be purchased again | |
| I seen a nigga ask for them black talons and grin | |
| It won' t be long ' til they let me loose | |
| Got me in the clip, drinkin Gin with no f kin juice | |
| It' s goin down, I know they ridin on some fools tonight | |
| Hit the lights, squeeze the trigger, send me on my flight | |
| Don' t give a f k about who I hit when I fly | |
| The only thought that' s on my mind is " die nigga, die" | |
| Women and children and babies, I know it' s crazy | |
| See I' m a bullet, it' s my job, man that shit don' t faze me | |
| Even the hand that' s on the trigger get shot too | |
| Wherever the barrel aiming at, that' s who I end up smokin fool | |
| Don' t get it twisted, I got no love for none of y' all | |
| Got to dig a tunnel through your head, and watch the body fall | |
| Just shoot and I' mma do the rest | |
| I love givin young niggas cardiac arrests | |
| Bulletproof niggas, I go up in ' em quickly | |
| The ambulance picked him up with shit all in his Dickies | |
| Just cock the glock, put your finger on the trigger, pull it | |
| And make a mothaf ka feel the bullet | |
| Ha ha ha, yeah | |
| Another victim of these mothaf kin bullets | |
| Once we pull the trigger, don' t get nervous | |
| ' cause it' s instant mothaf kin service | |
| Ha ha ha, yeah | |
| Breakin fools off everymothaf kinday | |
| Ha ha ha | |
| Up out the chamber, it' s that sneaky mothaf ka creepin | |
| You heard a shot but didn' t know until the blood was leakin | |
| Up out your chest, you seen your flesh was a bloody mess | |
| Dropped down on your knees, and ran outta breath | |
| Sentanced to your death | |
| Got hit by the wig splittin, shirt rippin, pistol wippin nigga | |
| Catchin ' em slippin when they set trippin | |
| Dippin and dabbin, you niggas know who I am, and | |
| Can' t be f kin with them faulty heaters that be jammin | |
| I love to fly and when they jam, I can' t come out and kick it | |
| Just pick a target, point me at it and see how quick I hit it | |
| Droppin bodies by the dozens, in and out your cousins | |
| I' m burnin niggas like a oven, givin up no lovin | |
| ? with my dogs, ridin in a 50 round clip | |
| Ready to make the hit, talkin long shit, bitch | |
| Hit the floor before I hit the door and split ya with some heat | |
| Take your head and leave your body in the street | |
| As I creep, up on my next mothaf kin victim | |
| Sweep him off his feet, pull the trigger, let me sick him | |
| Hit him high, hit him low, you know how it go | |
| Put your finger on the trigger, pull it, the mothaf kin bullet | |
| Ha ha ha, the mothaf kin bullet | |
| Mobbin through your hood and takin head | |
| Showin no mothaf kin remorse | |
| We don' t give a f k about you | |
| The bullet, ha ha ha | |
| Sprayin up shit everywhere we go | |
| Don' t give a f k, layin men 6 feet on the regular | |
| Ha ha ha |
| zuò cí : Franklin, McCarver | |
| Sittin on the shelf, they got me stuck up in this box | |
| Choppin it up with the homies, havin visions of a glock 17 | |
| Niggas on my team can' t wait to fill clip up | |
| We jumpin out the barrel with my niggas, shootin shit up | |
| See under niner ross, black talon, hollow tips flow | |
| Aim me at the chest, I' m makin sure that vest don' t get no love | |
| Ain' t even breathin, leave the body shittin like a seagull | |
| See I' m illegal, I got pockets like that nbsp? eagle | |
| F kin around with me is danger, I' m talkin shit | |
| Tryin to brainwash the trigger when I' m in the chamber | |
| Don' t give a f k if it' s a accident or on purpose | |
| When I' m comin out the chamber, fool it' s just inservice | |
| Don' t get nervous when you see what I do | |
| I love to hit the target, and when I' m breakin that skin, ooh | |
| Travel through his heart, ricoché t off the nearest bone | |
| Rip his insides up, shatter his spine, now I' m gone | |
| Layin by the body, waitin for the FEDS | |
| Swoop me up for evidence, then I' m just some melted led | |
| It ain' t no thang, got me back where I started | |
| In a box, with my homies, waitin for my next target | |
| Ha ha ha, the mothaf kin bullet | |
| Shootin up shit everywhere | |
| Every city in every state | |
| Don' t give a f k about who when the bullet fly | |
| The only thought that' s on my mind is " die nigga, die" | |
| Ha ha ha | |
| But what do ya know, looks like I' m ' bout to be purchased again | |
| I seen a nigga ask for them black talons and grin | |
| It won' t be long ' til they let me loose | |
| Got me in the clip, drinkin Gin with no f kin juice | |
| It' s goin down, I know they ridin on some fools tonight | |
| Hit the lights, squeeze the trigger, send me on my flight | |
| Don' t give a f k about who I hit when I fly | |
| The only thought that' s on my mind is " die nigga, die" | |
| Women and children and babies, I know it' s crazy | |
| See I' m a bullet, it' s my job, man that shit don' t faze me | |
| Even the hand that' s on the trigger get shot too | |
| Wherever the barrel aiming at, that' s who I end up smokin fool | |
| Don' t get it twisted, I got no love for none of y' all | |
| Got to dig a tunnel through your head, and watch the body fall | |
| Just shoot and I' mma do the rest | |
| I love givin young niggas cardiac arrests | |
| Bulletproof niggas, I go up in ' em quickly | |
| The ambulance picked him up with shit all in his Dickies | |
| Just cock the glock, put your finger on the trigger, pull it | |
| And make a mothaf ka feel the bullet | |
| Ha ha ha, yeah | |
| Another victim of these mothaf kin bullets | |
| Once we pull the trigger, don' t get nervous | |
| ' cause it' s instant mothaf kin service | |
| Ha ha ha, yeah | |
| Breakin fools off everymothaf kinday | |
| Ha ha ha | |
| Up out the chamber, it' s that sneaky mothaf ka creepin | |
| You heard a shot but didn' t know until the blood was leakin | |
| Up out your chest, you seen your flesh was a bloody mess | |
| Dropped down on your knees, and ran outta breath | |
| Sentanced to your death | |
| Got hit by the wig splittin, shirt rippin, pistol wippin nigga | |
| Catchin ' em slippin when they set trippin | |
| Dippin and dabbin, you niggas know who I am, and | |
| Can' t be f kin with them faulty heaters that be jammin | |
| I love to fly and when they jam, I can' t come out and kick it | |
| Just pick a target, point me at it and see how quick I hit it | |
| Droppin bodies by the dozens, in and out your cousins | |
| I' m burnin niggas like a oven, givin up no lovin | |
| ? with my dogs, ridin in a 50 round clip | |
| Ready to make the hit, talkin long shit, bitch | |
| Hit the floor before I hit the door and split ya with some heat | |
| Take your head and leave your body in the street | |
| As I creep, up on my next mothaf kin victim | |
| Sweep him off his feet, pull the trigger, let me sick him | |
| Hit him high, hit him low, you know how it go | |
| Put your finger on the trigger, pull it, the mothaf kin bullet | |
| Ha ha ha, the mothaf kin bullet | |
| Mobbin through your hood and takin head | |
| Showin no mothaf kin remorse | |
| We don' t give a f k about you | |
| The bullet, ha ha ha | |
| Sprayin up shit everywhere we go | |
| Don' t give a f k, layin men 6 feet on the regular | |
| Ha ha ha |
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