(feat. H.A.W.K., Chris Ward) [Intro] Bang-bang, I shot you down bang-bang You hit the ground bang-bang That awful sound, bang-bang I use to shoot you down [H.A.W.K.] Bang-bang, all that remains is a splattered brain Chizzle your frame, and blood gushing from you veins We bust them thangs, that rearrange your whole frame And inflict pain, like a venomous snakes fangs H.A.W.K. is the nickname, H.A.W.K. therefor is sick mayn And when I aim, just get low like Ying-Yang And if you're in my range, while I'm in my Range You better switch lanes, and dash like Dame I'm like John Wayne, without a saddle mayn I tear up thangs, the force of a hurricane You think it's a game, then go on let your nuts hang Call my bluff, and you gon see your cuts mayn Blood on your Chucks mayn, I don't give a fuck mayn I'm not young, but I do want the bucks mayn Fire up the dutch mayn, fired in the clutch mayn And just remember, anybody can be touched mayn I'm like Big Daddy Kane, ain't no half stepping Cause I keep a weapon, and it's a Smith-N-Wesson I keep my heat on me, like I.D. Bust a few shots, you hooked to an IV So don't try me, or you will die G And one thang bout me, is I don't lie G Don't jump fly G, or try to act crazy Cause that will only have you, lying under daisies Mama screaming out, what happened to my baby Our sympathies go out, to your T-Lady [Chris Ward] You see I grind full time, and I rhyme on my off days In a red patent leather colored Coupe, and the top is soft grey All you hating ass haters, best to back up off me If not I know where to do it, my glock faulty And round here, man they call me C dot W If I ain't got no love for ya, ain't no sense in mugging ya I just pull out, and toss a couple slugs at ya With a warranty, that nine out of ten'll end up in ya I got a aim, so superb when I spit It's like my flow pattern, have you ever heard when I spit I'm so correct with it, I must connect with it Hit your chest back head, and then your neck with it See I'm the truth lil' dude, just ask these niggaz They could be driving in they ride, and I could be walking Ten miles behind, and I still pass these niggaz Like a bad accident, I'm bout to crash these niggaz At the lyrics cemetery, is where they gon have to stash these niggaz And yeah-yeah, it's C-Ward the B.Gizzle of the click That'll dump a clip at ya, till I hurt or burn a click Click-click-click, uh-huh And reload, and do it all over again my nigga Click-click-click (blucka-blucka-blucka-blucka-blucka-blucka) Click-click-click (blucka-blucka-blucka-blucka-blucka-blucka) Click-click-click (blucka-blucka-blucka-blucka-blucka-blucka)
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(feat. H.A.W.K., Chris Ward) [Intro] Bang-bang, I shot you down bang-bang You hit the ground bang-bang That awful sound, bang-bang I use to shoot you down [H.A.W.K.] Bang-bang, all that remains is a splattered brain Chizzle your frame, and blood gushing from you veins We bust them thangs, that rearrange your whole frame And inflict pain, like a venomous snakes fangs H.A.W.K. is the nickname, H.A.W.K. therefor is sick mayn And when I aim, just get low like Ying-Yang And if you're in my range, while I'm in my Range You better switch lanes, and dash like Dame I'm like John Wayne, without a saddle mayn I tear up thangs, the force of a hurricane You think it's a game, then go on let your nuts hang Call my bluff, and you gon see your cuts mayn Blood on your Chucks mayn, I don't give a fuck mayn I'm not young, but I do want the bucks mayn Fire up the dutch mayn, fired in the clutch mayn And just remember, anybody can be touched mayn I'm like Big Daddy Kane, ain't no half stepping Cause I keep a weapon, and it's a Smith-N-Wesson I keep my heat on me, like I.D. Bust a few shots, you hooked to an IV So don't try me, or you will die G And one thang bout me, is I don't lie G Don't jump fly G, or try to act crazy Cause that will only have you, lying under daisies Mama screaming out, what happened to my baby Our sympathies go out, to your T-Lady [Chris Ward] You see I grind full time, and I rhyme on my off days In a red patent leather colored Coupe, and the top is soft grey All you hating ass haters, best to back up off me If not I know where to do it, my glock faulty And round here, man they call me C dot W If I ain't got no love for ya, ain't no sense in mugging ya I just pull out, and toss a couple slugs at ya With a warranty, that nine out of ten'll end up in ya I got a aim, so superb when I spit It's like my flow pattern, have you ever heard when I spit I'm so correct with it, I must connect with it Hit your chest back head, and then your neck with it See I'm the truth lil' dude, just ask these niggaz They could be driving in they ride, and I could be walking Ten miles behind, and I still pass these niggaz Like a bad accident, I'm bout to crash these niggaz At the lyrics cemetery, is where they gon have to stash these niggaz And yeah-yeah, it's C-Ward the B.Gizzle of the click That'll dump a clip at ya, till I hurt or burn a click Click-click-click, uh-huh And reload, and do it all over again my nigga Click-click-click (blucka-blucka-blucka-blucka-blucka-blucka) Click-click-click (blucka-blucka-blucka-blucka-blucka-blucka) Click-click-click (blucka-blucka-blucka-blucka-blucka-blucka)
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