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pistol grip pump - gimisum family lyrics

[verse 1: lil gin]
i’m a full*time gangster, pimpin’ is my career
i’m in the midnight studying, gamblin’, smokin’ pure
you know the wise guy
controllin’ crooked dissection along my own designated piece of curb, i’m packin’ my chrome steel
but i’m looking up to real n*ggas in this industry
like russian jews becoming giants ownin’ companies
successful salesmen, putting hits on crooked cops
i’m trapped in the ghetto, steadily takin’ criminal mugshots
they say a n*gga with a gun is homicidal
well, they made it legal to tote it in tеxas, now ain’t that suicidal?
for the n*ggas with no sense on thomas and woodlawn boulеvard sniffin’ that f*cking [*sniff*]
high*capper n*ggas gon’ get robbed
we pullin’ them papers, makin’ em capers, lil gin shootin’ ’em double nina rosses, black casamigos, victory flawless, gimisum family bosses about

[hook:]
pistol grip pump in my lap at all times
n*ggas f*ck with other n*ggas sh*t, but they don’t f*ck with mine
[verse 2: lil gin]
i’m from that north memphis area
where pimp n*ggas packin’ the, heat under the seat
dippin’ sweets, bumpin’ doja
we tearin’ up the f*ckin’ club, rollin’ so clean on them fours
thick as h*ll on beale street, where you can f*ck on the first night, hoes
everywhere n*ggas is tryna get paid
the game is: you play or played
k!llers in my town, we layin’ em down with a rusty twelve gauge
i got much love, for the h*double*o*d i grew in
i will win, many stangs on any trick b*tch tryna cross my clan
throw yo s*e*t ‘cuz the nashville cr’izz’ips got my back
hurtsvillage, woodlawn, smokey city, watkins
9th street n*ggas jackin’ tracks
what yo’ hood like? is it rough? is it tough?
we got girls and gold grills, and n*gga we ain’t afraid to bust
i’m project born, runnin’ from the police ain’t no thang
i mastered all that sh*t, as a young n*gga shootin’ at the junkie;
knocks on the back porch tryna run out with my bricks
put some money back into the ghetto, while you standin’ tall
don’t forget where you came from, ‘cuz you can’t fall

[hook:]
pistol grip pump in my lap at all times
n*ggas f*ck with other n*ggas sh*t, but they don’t f*ck with mine
17*5, i gotta bird on they ass
[verse 3: lil gin]
when i be hangin’ on the curb, with my gauge in a garbage can
my hand on my d*ck, for the freaky b*tches lovin’ playa
sh*t, you can call me gin, ‘cuz i’m liquor store bound
i hit a junkie with some crumb*numb, n*gga, get a pint of crown
can’t you see, that skunk got me crunk, is the sh*t with a face mask?
smothered by the dope i blast, loced out with my kinfolk crest
through a n*gga door, hit the floor, “where the dope, at trick?”
i ain’t got no cash!
look up in the closet, b*tch!
i’m holdin, while n*ggas i’m foldin’
up on them hundreds of dollars, i’m makin’ them holler
them b*tches swallow, the gauge, if i’m not paid
that means, i made no money, no it ain’t funny
that means, i blaze the barrel
them buckshots scatter, i watch it splatter your guts
jump over the fence, and hit the cut

[hook:]
pistol grip pump in my lap at all times
n*ggas f*ck with other n*ggas sh*t, but they don’t f*ck with mine
17*5, i gotta bird on they ass
pistol grip pump in my lap at all times
n*ggas f*ck with other n*ggas sh*t, but they don’t f*ck with mine
17*5, i gotta bird on they ass
pistol grip pump in my lap at all times
n*ggas f*ck with other n*ggas sh*t, but they don’t f*ck with mine
17*5, i gotta bird on they ass
pistol grip pump in my lap at all times
n*ggas f*ck with other n*ggas sh*t, but they don’t f*ck with mine
17*5, i gotta bird on they ass
pistol grip pump in my lap at all times
n*ggas f*ck with other n*ggas sh*t, but they don’t f*ck with mine
17*5, i gotta bird on they ass

- gimisum family lyrics

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