歌词
作词 : C.S. Armstrong/Andre Young/C. Jackson/Marshall Mathers/V. Smith/B. Perry/T Myrie/C. Wallace/H. Osten/A. Green/D. Rogers Sr./A. Wrubel/H. Magidson/N. Myrick/S. Combs
作曲 : C.S. Armstrong/Andre Young/C. Jackson/Marshall Mathers/V. Smith/B. Perry/T Myrie/C. Wallace/H. Osten/A. Green/D. Rogers Sr./A. Wrubel/H. Magidson/N. Myrick/S. Combs
Come, let me show you the ropes
Chucks come with the LOCs
Drums come with the dope
Guns come with the smoke
Bang!
I just want the paper
I just want the paper
Gun smoke, gun smoke
They say he a big stepper
I'm just saying I am not the type to get stepped on
I ain't got a big weapon
Glock 17 with the switch, but the clip long
I ain't finna play with you
Boy, you **** around, I'ma have to catch a fade with you
Get the blick in broad day with you
Have the lil' homies run down while bae wit you
Lil' man dope party
Got him out tonight, but the **** got four bodies
Who want smoke? Nobody
Going once, going twice, don't wanna smoke nobody
Tell me what you know 'bout it
Strapped right now, ****, how you wanna go 'bout it?
I'm not the one you lean on
The type you wanna try apply pressure to and scheme on
P***y ****, dream on
Run, ****, run till I have to click the beam on
Red dot ya, I got ya
B.I.G. time, who shot ya?
I dropped ya, who popped ya shit lit?
Soon as I spot ya, oowee
Why would you be ****ing with me?
Gun smoke, gun smoke
Let's take a second here for this moment of violence
You smell it in the air, product of my environment
I come from freestylin' over gun shots and sirens
Nothing more gangsta than my voice over these violins
Get down, lay down, it's the wolf of the Dogg Pound
Yeah, playground, shakedown, Autobahn, no brakes now
Skinny **** back pushing weight now, new Death Row on the plate now
More details, please do tell, what's that smell, ****? (Gun smoke, gun smoke)
Shit, you would too if you knew what a young **** had to do
Rendezvous with a Pac or 2, Rock shit up like Mötley Crüe
In this fight, you gotta stick and move, all my life, I had to show and prove
Still a **** with a attitude, if you ain't gangsta, this is not for you
Yeah, bullet holes in the palm trees, dirty money in the laundry
Ten toes in the concrete, **** know where to find me
I gotta long reach, this Long Beach, where we don't speak
And you saw what happened to the last **** that tried to **** with my proceeds
Gun smoke
I remember when I was thirteen, searching for how to get my revenge on a world that hurt me
Thirsty for commas, them double entendres turnt me
To an entrepreneur and a monster constantly caught in some kinda contro—
—versy, that was my mantra, to taunt ya was kinda conde—
—scending, but why should I be kind to the kind of people that weren't kind to
Me comin' up? So like that syrup they cancelled, I'ma
Say, "**** you and your momma", then blame my rap persona (Gun smoke, gun smoke)
That's the excuse that I used to explain my grammar
Allowing me to just do what I do and not face the ramifications so I could air my frustrations
But I'll be damned if the same reporter's gonna shove another tape recorder
And camera in my face while I am at the Burger King just to grab my lil' baby daughter
A hamburger like Shady oughta be amicable
Guess that's the price that you pay for all the glamour
The fame and stardom, like when you're treated just like an animal, you'll (Gun smoke, gun smoke)
Not act like one when you came from bottom
But they gonna make me wanna pull a llama and make like I'm a mechanical bull
**** around and buck these hoes, ain't talkin' no luxury clothes
Two nines I tuck, see those?
Like Rock & Roll Hall of Famers, try and duck deez, yo
Hey, what the **** you want?
Didn't I just see you yesterday?
**** outta here, ****in' b***h
Now I'm much older, and I may be calmer, run up on me, and I might be a little less likely to go crazy on ya
And let the
Gun smoke
I just want the paper
I just want the paper
Gun smoke, gun smoke