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snowgoons - solid gold guns lyrics

verse 1: conway the machine:

uh, 40 leave you n+ggas slumped (boom boom)
p+ssy you gon’ need a bigger gun (hah)
i let off the drum and watch you n+ggas run and scream like b+tches when the magazine spittin’ hold up (brrrrrr)
i’m cut from a different cloth (cap)
i could look at you and tell that you n+ggas soft (you p+ssy n+gga)
ha, drop a bag and get you n+ggas all (cap)
i ain’t gotta lift the finger i just made the call (green light)
hm, if it’s an issue let it be known (what’s poppin’, homie?)
shot him in the ribs broke three bones (hold that)
psh, every week a hundred p’s gone (ahahaha!)
razor slide across a n+gga cheekbones
verse 2: banish:

look, steppin’ out up in that onda wearin’ off+white (off+white)
catch these f+ckers frontin’ then it’s on sight (alright)
she already know it’s gon’ be a long night, little stoner rub by that b+tch she lovin’ that long pipe (take it)
a man’s in them had a plan they had to cancel that plot
‘fore they got caught with more shots than the denzel got
like what the f+ck is this new rap business i won’t get it these lames is bad trannies i can tell out the gate that they b+tches (yeah, haha…)
put this muzzle on you if you keep yappin’
don’t know what happen say i’m trappin’ actin’ about out that action (listen)
i got a dozen for you and i don’t gotta chase far
it’s whatever they want ’cause i got more gauges than a racecar (uh)

chorus: banish:

so listen fonds, and watchin’ you b+tches run
i ain’t done without a collection of solid gold guns, (brrrrrr), uh
solid gold guns (boom boom boom boom), yeah, solid gold guns
you fools is bums already know i’m not the one
i ain’t done without an +rs+nal of solid gold guns, (brrrrrr), uh
solid gold guns (boom boom boom boom), yeah, solid gold guns

verse 3: supreme cerebral:

yeah, sick ’em all while these whittin’ stand socks (the flyest)
do a n+gga dirtier than ham hocks
beam on your white tee look like the flag j+pan got (brra!)
you have+not, you ain’t worth the incoil in my hand cap (facts)
ar soundin’ like a drumroll (brrrrr!), fashion game got these b+tches gung+ho
winchester tuck, sh+t, she know a n+gga hung low (ah), dumb ho, my bas+m+nt lookin’ like i’m runnin’ gun shows (braa!)
shoot outs in broad day, send ya to them pearly gates (uh)
razor in my mouth like birdywaite, the thirty eight, will permeate, and surely take the burnin’ fate of learnin’ hate
and knowin’ that i’m showin’ faith to increase the murder rate (braa!)
verse 4: recognize ali:

uh, i put the toaster to a n+gga dome (recognize)
then tell him where the bread, or he f+ckin’ gone
flyin’ daggers, katana blades, or a toughly holmes?
got his home, tell a king that i’mma need his throne
straight up gorilla style, my k!llers wild, you b+tches bow
today i should catch a body, sh+t it’s been a while
look, i s+x raw, with a french wh0re, pink clothes array, send color than the french war
go to war like saladin make n+ggas restin’ first
you lose a hand from pullin’ out your weapon first
banish hit me, told me “god, i need a second verse” (please god, please god)
with him and conway on the track, you meet your second death!

chorus

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