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shooters touch - rmc mike lyrics

[intro]
rj always trippin’, man
rj always trippin’, man
(it’s a wayne beat)
b*tch
(ayy, [?], man, run that sh*t)
ayy, ayy, hey, hey

[verse]
diamonds on me bustin’, yeah, that water
i know what i’m worth, so it’s f*ck a n*gga offer
i’m a freaky fat n*gga tryna f*ck a n*gga daughter
yeah, i came from the trenches, i’ma f*ck her on the water
catch me hangin’ out the back seat bustin’ out the charger
i’ll leave a b*tch quick, no, i don’t like to argue
we are not the same, you a rapper, i’m an artist
d*mn, i think i need some lean bad, sh*t, i just farted
yeah, that’s the withdrawals
n*gga pulled up with some green, got me p*ssed off
i been rappin’ since a pup, now i’m a big dog
four*forty*еight, boy, another hundred pack shipped off
diamonds on mе dancin’ hard, n*gga, criss*cross
he stuck his head in my business, got it ripped off
i’m in the booth wired up like i hit soft
i poured a cup, that b*tch was gone before tipoff
ain’t no talkin’ ’bout no bars ’cause i’m crazy with it
i tote a hundred rounds or better ’cause i’m lazy with it
one day, f*ck, i think i hit a baby with it
where i’m from, you know, they call that sh*t babysittin’
i know she got a lot of hoes, i’m her favorite n*gga
sh*t, the streets and the rap both pay me, n*gga
’94 baby with the mind of an eighties n*gga
you n*ggas really in the way, man, i hate you n*ggas, i’ll paint you n*ggas
but if i do that then i’m doin’ time
i let you trick me off the street, what a fool am i
i had to pull the trigger first, it was do or die
off*white biker pants came true to size
b22s off the prada and givenchy
i get pape’, if you get pape’, holler if you hear me
i can’t wait until that day i charge a n*gga sixty
we don’t believe sh*t you say, kinda like it’s ripley’s
pocket full of dog sh*t, i got a diaper with me
and don’t make no sudden moves, i got a sniper with me
make a n*gga smoke his ‘wood, i got a lighter with me
and today i’m fresh as h*ll, brought a pilot with me
i done drunk so much wock’, i got iron kidneys
my manager’ll pop a n*gga, ayy, ayler, get him
n*gga, f*ck a h*llcat, i’m tryna price a bentley
i sold a n*gga a case of wock’ but the pints was empty
okay, my tape just dropped, you know prices shifty
when it come to put my city on, n*gga, i am committed
i can’t leave the streets alone, n*ggas like the friction
i’ll knock a ho out, i be fightin’ b*tches
deadstock 12’s on, n*gga [?][1:50]
i’m that n*gga bringin’ guns to a hoop game
dog sh*t in my pocket left a pooch stank
i’ll do you bad by my brothers, n*gga, wu*tang
i got a bag full of old hundreds, put the new ones up
pop a n*gga head and got his b*tch, that’s a two*for*one
made her suck d*ck, she said, “i don’t usually do this stuff”
shot my kids all down her throat, made her chew it up
it’s only two sides, you or us
today, i brought all the glocks out and put the rugers up
i think i calmed down a bit, i don’t shoot as much
still’ll pop a n*gga from the three, i got shooters’ touch

- rmc mike lyrics

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