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lirik lagu let em go – fat killahz

[intro: shim*e bango]
man these hoe ass n*ggas man
think they can f*cking take shots at me man
think i’m not gonna holler back man?
these b*tch ass n*ggas man
i got 17 for these n*ggas man, heh heh
we’re ’bout to let these motherf*ckers go
they really don’t know man
yo, lemme see that real quick
ooh heh heh yeah
ooh i got hollows n*gga, i’m finna let these motherf*ckers go

[verse 1: shim*e bango]
i’ll be waiting for y’all n*ggas to pop out, pull a glock out
hit every window on your momma crib, shot the f*ck out
biggie told y’all n*ggas about beefing and i’m creep
on your ass with the heat, bandana around my cheeks
i run with a fleet of d n*ggas that love to scr*p (scr*p)
as dirty as they come, we’ll shoot you in the back
i really wanna relax, get scratch and count my stacks
these hoe ass n*ggas will never allow that
so i ride with a snub, who could die in the club
the ’45 to your mug, release 5 of them slugs
i’m from detroit where n*ggas get hit e’ry night
air tight, you could save [?] with your aim right
war i speak fluent, hug cats like ted nugent
school of hard knocks, y’all boys was all truant
so we can get the going going on if you want to
you a b*tch and we all know what you won’t do, motherf*cker
[chorus: marv won]
let em go, when a n*gga thinks that he’s tough
or when a certain motherf*cker run his mouth too much
and he thinking that he can’t be touched
but he don’t know about the gun you clutch, turn his ass to dust
let em go, or when a n*gga think you a b*tch
and when you cross paths he rags on you to his clique
and he brags about his car and his chicks
but that don’t mean sh*t, empty your clip, ’til your guns goes…

[verse 2: king gordy]
when i die f*ck it, i wanna go to h*ll
f*ck being alive to be confined in a cell, well
i’m wanted for triple homicide, his kids and his momma died
started up at [?] lounge, sprayed those rounds
don’t think i’ll shoot your b*tch, [?] i’ll lay hoes down
just run your loot and your rims, [?] i’ll take those now
i’m high and i’ll come to battle you, f*ck what you say
i’m riding up harper avenue, bustin’ the k
trynna make it to van dyk*, you coming my way?
tonight’s gon’ be your last night, you’re done for the day
(east side) [?] park robbing n*ggas in armani
it’s 5 o’clock and i done shot up everybody
with that fire from my side, grip it and c*ck it
pulling n*ggas out they rides, hitting they pockets (gimme your sh*t n*gga)
this flossing sh*t getting out of hand, i’m sorry
this n*gga bleeding and still tryna hold on to his cartiers
[chorus: marv won]
let em go, when a n*gga thinks that he’s tough
or when a certain motherf*cker run his mouth too much
and he thinking that he can’t be touched
but he don’t know about the gun you clutch, turn his ass to dust
let em go, or when a n*gga think you a b*tch
and when you cross paths he rags on you to his clique
and he brags about his car and his chicks
but that don’t mean sh*t, empty your clip, ’til your guns goes…

[verse 3: fatt father & god]
i’m so sick of the conversating god, so what you sayin’ [?]
why they wanna play like they hard until the k arrive (what’s up now n*gga)
it’s difficult to just disregard to sh*t they at times
“put it in my hands, stay calm and have a piece of mine”
nonsense, i take from no man, am i wrong? no
but k!lling a man is something i can’t condone though
well can i beat him half to death? uh uh
or at least half the stress, uh uh, give him a mag’ and just
watch as he blast hisself, son pay attention
i know it’s consequences, well if you know then go ahead and make your own decision
i been listening but life right here in detroit, michigan
is k!ll, be k!lled or face imprisonment
they talk and i live it, it’s more than just a hook and a verse
you live it, i made it, you scared? better head for the church
y’all lucky my man holding my back
or death becomes any cat running his trap, let em go
[chorus x2: marv won]
let em go, when a n*gga thinks that he’s tough
or when a certain motherf*cker run his mouth too much
and he thinking that he can’t be touched
but he don’t know about the gun you clutch, turn his ass to dust
let em go, or when a n*gga think you a b*tch
and when you cross paths he rags on you to his clique
and he brags about his car and his chicks
but that don’t mean sh*t, empty your clip, ’til your guns goes…

- fat killahz

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