Lyrics Montana Of 300 – Monster

I’m a monster, the streets made me a monster
I got my guap up, green on me like Blonca
You see I’m clean but that don’t mean you can’t get mopped up
I keep the Glock tucked, play with me get boxed up

Before the rap I was the plug, I’m who they copped from
Had lil bro selling pounds for me when I got locked up
I used to pray the neighbors never called the cops up
Streets ain’t no game, been moving weight like I’m E. Honda
Don’t make me pull up on you, shooting like Black Mamba
You gon’ need Jesus, God, a vest and Kevin Costner
After I dump, I leave him slumped, fucked up his posture
Step back like Harden, cook his top ’til I see pasta
I had to go through some crazy times
Witnessed murder at the age of 9
My first gun was a P89
Had to stay with that Glock, they ain’t taking mine
Paying bills, a few lawyers, and paying fines
Had a bitch lying saying her baby mine
Had some homies hating on the way he grind
Before fans I had clientele pay me mine
All of the pain that I been through
All of the struggle I went through
?
only motive my mental, why only count on my pistol?
Gangsters don’t talk on computers, all that tough talk don’t amuse us
And when I slap this dick in the 40, bitch I ain’t fuckin’ no cougar

I’m a monster, the streets made me a monster
I got my guap up, green on me like Blonca
You see I’m clean but that don’t mean you can’t get mopped up
I keep the Glock tucked, play with me get boxed up

I’m in my bag, you don’t want smoke, this ain’t no ganja
Slide like a hockey team with sticks, I make the opps duck
Don’t give no fuck ’bout who you got up on yo’ roster
My shooters hands filled up with bands, bitch I’m they sponsor
We all got 30s, do you dirty, you’ll get mopped up
I’ll snap my fingers, they gon’ cook him like Red Lobster
I’ll slide ’em bread, y’all know y’all toast soon as they pop up
Ain’t shit you can do, light ’em all up like it’s Kwanzaa
From the ‘jects, from the trenches, I’m from the gutta
Told myself, man I gotta come up with something
Keep my head up in life like it upper-cut him
I was fly, they was hating, I wasn’t buggin’
Bought a MAC and a vest from my uncle Bubba
I was turnt, packing heat like a fuckin’ oven
Had some opps until I dropped a couple of ’em
Left ’em lying, I been had the jungle jumpin’
They say they tryna find out where I be at
They been talking for years and ain’t try me yet
Yeah I know haters looking, that’s why we flex
You know I keep the TEC in my Nike Tech
And you know I’m a savage like Randy
I guess all of the pain came in handy
Got the drum in my clip
When I come in this bitch, pussy you gon’ need more than a Plan B

I’m a monster, the streets made me a monster
I got my guap up, green on me like Blonca
You see I’m clean but that don’t mean you can’t get mopped up
I keep the Glock tucked, play with me get boxed up