Текст Twista – No Pistols

Intro
Yeah, Mobsta stiddyle
Let’s ride on them bitches
It’s time to go to war nigga

Chorus: Twista (Liffy Stokes)
Don’t wanna see you, with no, pistols if you ain’t ready to roll nigga
(Put down that .45)
Don’t wanna see you, with no, pistols if you ain’t ready to roll nigga
(Gotta let that 40 ride)
Don’t wanna see you, with no, pistols if you ain’t ready to roll nigga
(Let’s do a homicide)
Don’t ever wanna see you, with no, pistols if you ain’t ready to roll nigga
(You ain’t ready to ride)

Twista
Don’t wanna see you with that fo’-five unless you gon’ ride
If I say you gon’ die, motherfucker I get so live
But you be procrastinatin
I think you fuck around with pistols cause they fascinatin
You motherfuckers ain’t gon’ do nothin, when you get through frontin
Niggaz out here already know that you ain’t gon’ shoot nothin
End up at the Pearly Gates when they test you
Got a dirty face but what you know about a .38-special?
Sheeit — and I know them hard words make you jump
But what your heart worth when you got the Mossberg pump, bitch?
And the shorties lookin at you like a punk bitch
Cause you ain’t makin what you claim, ain’t gon’ dump click
You gon’ cry when you hear them bullets dumpin when them shorties come and ride on you
When the pistol click-clack
If you still alive will you really get to dumpin if you got that .45 on you?

Chorus

Mayz
Once upon a time in the Chi
there was three real killers who bust guns and puff fire
They cop weight by the ki, and back up every gram
And stay ready for bustin with the pistol in they hand
I’m preachin murder like a vicious reverend
About niggaz who claim they shootin but ain’t never seen .357’s
Now what reason would you hold it for?
Put that pistol down nigga pick that weed up, roll it up
Twist up the lye, you don’t really wan’ die
Stop your bloodclaat lyin, your bullets don’t fly
Freestyle ain’t smooth like Vidal Sassoon
I keep the (Smif-n-Wessun) with me like I’m Black Moon
Toss up the livin room, stomp through the kitchen
I caught that nigga in the bathroom shittin and pissin
What you shakin for? I thought you said you ready to ride?
Don’t be comin with me if you say you strapped because I

Chorus

Liffy Stokes
I keep a P95 9-milli Ruger
You fuckin with a shooter, quick to bloody yo’ suit up
My aim impeccable, on point like a decimal
300 feet away in a tower snipin the festival
What you know about nines, and Glock .40’s?
And .45’s, AR-15’s with the five-pound slide
30-shot clips, snub noses with the rubber grips
Wicked tecs’ll put the kiss of death on your lover’s lips
It’s M-O-B nigga, we quick to squeeze nigga
AK-47’s make them bitches retreat nigga
Like a G nigga, I make ’em bleed nigga
Come at me wrong and I’m bustin, that’s on my seed nigga
My war chest is filled with bullets and tecs
Ski masks, gloves and vests, so nigga what’s next?
Nigga, it’s real thuggin, you a bitch to the bone
If you ain’t gon’ do nothin shorty, leave them pistols alone

Chorus