Текст песни Thugcore Cowboy - Necro

My life depends upon my gun and my gun spells hope in the land where the rope and the Colt are king
My deluxe bullets lift you fucks up like a pull-up
Carve you with a Phillip schmuck, Gemstar your grill up
I′m not a law-abiding citizen, I'm a rider I get it in
I′ll get acquitted fast after I smash your fitted in
I almost got trapped in jail cause you're a turncoat tattletale
Battle snake rat, your legal battle failed
I've broken all the rules, old-school gangster
Provoke me and I′ll smoke you with the tools, choke you with your jewels
Like a molar rips through, my whole crew flips you
Money you try to son me and I′ll solar eclipse you
Fuck you up like a polar shift, steal your skins
Hardcore pimp, hat with the brim, Fillmore Slim
You're too stupid to work a gun son, it exploded
′Cause you're the type to clean a gun out while it′s loaded
I capitalize slapping you guys, you could be the best rapper
I'm the best clapper alive
My life depends upon my gun and my gun spells hope in the land where the rope and the Colt are king
Thugcore cowboy, somebody gets beat
Somebody fucked up boy
I′ll catch you for duffing the street, yeah I'll do that
Beef handling myself, true that
My life depends upon my gun and my gun spells hope in the land where the rope and the Colt are king
You'll never be victorious, you′ll forever lose
You′re the sorriest excuse of a warrior the hood's ever produced
I′m vain glorious, I remain the goriest
Pop a tourist with a Taurus, the slug tore through the chest
Ghetto like a dollar cab, catch you solitaire
Grab you by your collar, holler scared wallow down the stairs
Trying to vic me shorty? You think you slick? I'm WD-40
Slicker than the oil of a Saudi
You′re still breastfed in your nest, your father molests you
Test-tube baby, you look like your mother dressed you
Backslap you, bitch-smack you, cop pleas, screaming, "Stop please!"
Baseball bat pop knees
I'm the shiznit while you got bad kismet
You do bad business, your future′s cataclysmic
Shoot you with the gat quick, orbit my fat prick
Like the satellite Sputnik'll suck a dick
My life depends upon my gun and my gun spells hope in the land where the rope and the Colt are king
Thugcore cowboy, somebody gets beat
Somebody fucked up boy
I'll catch you for duffing the street, yeah I′ll do that
Beef handling myself, true that
My life depends upon my gun and my gun spells hope in the land where the rope and the Colt are king