Píseň: "Gun Play"

Interpret:
Rick Ross
Album:
"Deeper Than Rap"
I'm sittin at the table, countin' my money
 Ain't where I wanna be but I got a few hundreds
 A lot of talk on the streets like a nigga crossin' me
 Well, that's somethin' I gotta see


Is it how my chain swings? Tired of ma face
 Tellin' lies, getting niggas wives tied up and raped
 Similar to da mob, deeper than a rap
 All you niggas gettin' robbed, all the cell phones tapped


Bullet in my head, bullet in my chest
 Yeah, they want a nigga dead, they envy my success
 To be loved, to be loved, oh what a feelin'
 Hundred rounds in da drum


Niggas gettin whacked, no sympathy for the soft
 Niggas snitchin', I know bitches who clippin' your dick off
 I'ma boss champagne with the steak
 Pink rose jay sittin' ace by da case


Brisco line, 2 young niggas, what it do
 He gotta pretty shone and he wanna bring her through
 That's love, we go back to the blue house
 And if she bad enough, may take her to da new house


My Maserati be da new body
 Got your girl panties wetter than a pool party
 I got her sleepin' in the king size
 Last night I had tha bitch sittin' ring side


You wanna go that route, go there
 I been on this road before
 (Uh, huh)
 I know gunplay, you know gunplay
 (Yeah)


I'm shootin for the win but ready for the loss
 Both bags on the tip on my finger
 Yellin' bring it, I'm swingin' dat iron
 (Dat iron)
 When I'm swingin' dat iron
 (Dat iron)


Ain't thinkin' 'bout time
 Ain't thinkin' 'bout mine
 Ain't thinkin' bout dying


My nigga so street, my swisha so sweet
 All this money on the table, how a nigga gon' sleep
 Speculations on my deal, it was over ten mil
 Blowin' herb, chauffer plus home in New Zeal through


Beat the case like Gotti, we the Trill Murder Inc
 I erased, slip and slide, they rainy in the mink
 Look dead in her eye, it's da end of the road
 In the purple Maybach means dat I'm getting' more dough


Smell the Christian Dior, I used to be poor
 When you cross Florida lines, boy, I'm your leor
 Boobi Boys steal, Boobi Boy's real
 You can name a lot of lames that the Boobi Boys killed


Brisco line to young nigga, what it do
 Said he gotta couple kilos and he wanna bring 'em through
 That's love, we go back to da blue house
 And if he brought enough I may buy me a new house


You wanna go that route, go there
 I been on this road before
 (Uh, huh)
 I know gunplay, you know gunplay
 (Yeah)
 I'm shootin for the win but ready for the loss
 Both bags on the tip on my finger


Yellin' bring it, I'm swingin' dat iron
 (Dat iron)
 When I'm swingin' dat iron
 (Dat iron)


Ain't thinkin' 'bout time
 Ain't thinkin' 'bout mine
 Ain't thinkin' bout dying


Nigga how I'm livin', damn near dying
 For every digit I get, fuck they know 'bout that
 I aint never put shit on the line, just shit in they rhyme
 I shoot a nigga shit on a rhyme


Wanna bet nigga, you ain't a threat nigga
 Never seen a laptop in da projects nigga
 Just powder, cut with comet, fuck them comics
 Convicts and buyin' it, if they ain't coppin' or fryin' it


Then don't get a nigga fired up behind sum
 Fuck shit, ma nigga don't want this
 Who dat, who dat behind the curtain
 I'll merk 'em, wizard of oz niggas


Hiding behind money, hiding behind luxury
 I see 'em shootin' up all that fuck shit
 It's getting' ugly, got torch on the line
 Said he got a couple nuns, I told him
 Grab two koo, bring 'em on through


You wanna go that route, go there
 I been on this road before
 (Uh, huh)
 I know gunplay, you know gunplay
 (Yeah)


I'm shootin for the win but ready for the loss
 Both bags on the tip on my finger
 Yellin' bring it, I'm swingin' dat iron
 (Dat iron)
 When I'm swingin' dat iron
 (Dat iron)


Ain't thinkin' 'bout time
 Ain't thinkin' 'bout mine
 Ain't thinkin' bout dying