Lyrics:
invented. It was directly inspired by guns, specifically, Samuel Colt’s Revolver. It borrowed not only its barrel mechanics, swapping bullets for exposures,
Yea we're far from being free
We're far from free
Wanna welcome everybody to Jesus Piece
After my album fades, my competition will lyrically be
Yea we're far from being free
We're far from free
Wanna welcome everybody to Jesus Piece
After my album fades, my competition will lyrically be
We're far from free
Wanna welcome everybody to Jesus Piece
After my album fades, my competition will lyrically be deceased
Niggas saying I'm underrated
tape
Jeopardize being friendly just to keep mine safe
When keeping it real goes right, I couldn't keep my faith
By third album I was done, you shoulda
parties are the shit, forty mags by the scones
I'm fighting for gun rights to shoot a nigga in his dome
Click your fucking heels, there's no place like home
Sellin mixtapes to them albums from 30 to 50 thousand (wow)
It ain't no problem, I got it, my following got me (got me)
Long as I continue to spit poems
And, oh no, it's not violent when under the Christmas tree there's a look-alike gun
But, yes, of course it's violent to have an album like KRS-One
By
Got 21 guns
Got 22 mags
Got too many hoes wanna help me count this bag
Got too many bros that left tryna' come right back
Got too many choices now so
She cries for help[00:18.60]He runs his mouth[00:23.13]I'm screamin' out[00:27.62]Caught in the drought[00:32.08]Snapback[00:33.50]With a gun by your
on the other one, I blicked up bought my mother a gun[00:29.91]I switched up, hit the road[00:31.26]I almost came back with a hunnidbun,[00:33.03]I ain't need
of the snakes
Enter by way of the price, leave by way of the grave
Police projecting and swerving
Usually inspect 'em and hurt 'em
Preachers perfecting a sermon
don't take this feeling away, moe
This month is not enough me I love, moe
It's like I've been distracted
For so many days
By pussy and these women
No
Billy, just like Billy the Kid
Well now, Billy he was a bad boy
He won the wilder west
By the year of 21, had many notches on his gun
But someone
don't fuck around (Uh, uh)
Fuck around
One of my guys come and buck you down
Gun you down, shoot up your
Corner with a hundred rounds, yeah
The sound
everybody pay
Now I pull up with a tool that make everybody wait
Everybody told me I'd be dead by 21
By 22 I really had to go and get a gun
Never stand
at the summit ima take you up the highest
Driving gotta gun it cause I keep hearing sirens
My whole damn life I had enemies
But I run it up by any means
But
is for the gun Triggers
The noise bringers
This is for the gun slingers
Bell ringers
The bootleggers
And every day bangers
And all my hood hustlers who
chronic outta this world im not from this
planet doing my thang and the haters cant stand it not 21 but a nigga a savage NoCo niggas
aint giving no passes
I am not like these rappers
I've been going at it from the jump
First album shook the world
And I ain't even 21
They said that life ain't easy
Tracks, albums
You fool breaking up the rules
In your seventeens you became a big shot”
Bitch its 21st century i think not
At this time u can do everything
had the hood on fire
When the ball still playa, told me Ross was never like that
A lot of these niggas, they be rapping but they might cap
Future album
heads stuck in the past
So I got the gun and blasted
My Brains over that wall
It's been months since I got a call
Asking If I'm okay
But in reality I
heads stuck in the past
So I got the gun and blasted
My Brains over that wall
It's been months since I got a call
Asking If I'm okay
But in reality I
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