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lirik lagu respect the shooter – tony shhnow

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[intro: robb bank$]
i make mean girls s*x me
i make yoga hoes stretch (empire mixtapes)
i make the fat lady sing the next thing you hear (*gunshot*)
i make mean girls s*x me
i make yoga hoes stretch
i make the fat lady sing the next thing you hear (*gunshot)

(the empire, if you don’t hear their drops, then this is not a true exclusive)
(holy sh*t, where’d you find this?)

[verse 1: tony shhnow]
respect the shooter hold your pistol up
how come evеry time we talk money wе don’t mention ya?
i’m still ridin’ with that yea on me
i can’t trust these n*ggas that would tell on me
i can’t leave the house without a pistol and a scale on me
don’t trust us, we’ll take sum’
find the plug, twist a pack, then i shake sum’
grip her back, rip her weave, get her tracks done
i’m on a shopping spree, this a cash run
i finger f*ck that money make a bag cum
i take my n*ggas everywhere cause they ain’t had none
she ask me how i ain’t gon’ f*ck her don’t you know i’m me?
i’m tony shhnow the ceo so you won’t see id
my boy got lean but you can’t lean on me
i keep it true that’s just the genes in me and these n*ggas ain’t what they seem to be
we all got clips we changing scenery
i’m with my side with a few beans on me, we pack em up like bnb
we got shots like tmz, i bought a glock for my shooter birthday
bought a ruger for my girl it’s our anniversary
i reppin’ too official with that tec
you respect the shooter or get checked
[hook: tony shhnow]
respect the shooter hold your pistol up
how come every time we talk money we don’t mention ya?
i’m still ridin’ with that yea on me
i can’t trust these n*ggas that would tell on me
i can’t leave the house without a pistol and a scale on me
respect the shooter hold your pistol up
how come every time we talk money we don’t mention ya?
i’m still ridin’ with that yea on me
i can’t trust these n*ggas that would tell on me
i can’t leave the house without a pistol and a scale on me

[verse 2: robb bank$]
i had sold some jiggas and a tec to your big homie
grown man bidness lil n*gga show respect for me
adidas tracksuit like ’82 still got the bl!ck on me
white hoe dressed up like a nurse you know she always gotta check on me
gucci leather jacket, .38 stickin out of the pocket
n*gga you won’t see me when i strike hit em 2 times i dropped him
n*gga signed to def jam and get shelved how that become my problem (the empire)
n*ggas got no house and short pockets got vendettas probably
i party and you ask for molly, i taught eve how to be a rider
i’m with lucy lu drinkin’ sake she always call me charlie
i run into meg i’m like ceelo green don’t talk to stallions (holy sh*)
crushed ice in my medallion, while katy perry coppin’ beans [?] (where’d you find this?)
off the show with princess diana [?], got my fingers up her sweater
royalties all you remember, servin’ like i’m king rich
b*tch must like necrophilia, f*ckin’ with that dead n*gga
once i catch him n*gga we gon’ smack him bust his head open
i make mean girls s*x me
i make yoga hoes stretch
i make the fat lady sing the next thing you hear (*gunshot)
i’m the one that send the hit, press my finger [?] for the sh*t
made men up in this b*tch, got up bread and you can’t sit b*tch

[hook: tony shhnow]
respect the shooter hold your pistol up
how come every time we talk money we don’t mention ya?
i’m still ridin’ with that yea on me
i can’t trust these n*ggas that would tell on me
i can’t leave the house without a pistol and a scale on me
respect the shooter hold your pistol up
how come every time we talk money we don’t mention ya?
i’m still ridin’ with that yea on me
i can’t trust these n*ggas that would tell on me
i can’t leave the house without a pistol and a scale on me

(evil empire, coke, dope, crack, smack, weed, e’s, and cd’s, they got it all for cheap, you already know what it is, p*ssy)

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