"AB6 THE GANG" lyrics

(AB6 the gang
Got that laser pointed at your brain
Don't do this shit for fame
Pop a .40, fuck up all these lames
AB6 the gang
Got that laser pointed at your brain
Don't do this shit for fame
Pop a .40, fuck up all these lames
AB6 the gang
Got that laser pointed at your brain
Don't do this shit for fame
Pop a .40, fuck up all these lames
AB6 the gang
Got that laser pointed at your brain
Don't do this shit for fame
Pop a .40, fuck up all these lames)

Yo, bread, bread with my day ones
I gotta get back in my groove
Rather slumpin' back in my shoes
Dust off my crown and boots
I'm back on the ground with my troops
Fuck the fame, just give me the loot
Life is pain and so full of rain
These days the sun not shinin' through
I'm lookin' up at my ceiling fan
Countin' the blades, spinnin' around the clock
'Cause I've arrived in my face
My Glock will always decide my fate
I'm mention, I'm on a mission
Got my enemies in my vision
Got my weapon and that's your brain
Better to stain them hoes from a distance
Listen, I gotta get with some bitches
Turn your ho to a video vixen
Pussy boy, you sweet like lipstick
Broke boy by definition
Get off your ass and get some bread
Toss sideways and end up dead
Fill your body up with lead
Redrum, redrum

AB6 the gang
Got that laser pointed at your brain
Don't do this shit for fame
Pop a .40, fuck up all these lames
AB6 the gang
Got that laser pointed at your brain
Don't do this shit for fame
Pop a .40, fuck up all these lames

(AB6 the gang
Got that laser pointed at your brain
Don't do this shit for fame
Pop a .40, fuck up all these lames
AB6 the gang
Got that laser pointed at your brain
Don't do this shit for fame
Pop a .40, fuck up all these lames
AB6 the gang
Got that laser pointed at your brain
Don't do this shit for fame
Pop a .40, fuck up all these lames
AB6 the gang
Got that laser pointed at your brain
Don't do this shit for fame
Pop a .40, fuck up all these lames)

'Cause opposites the game
Keepin' my circle, died on forward lanes
Open up 80, quiz the bitch how many
Smokin' it to the face, it's us
Seven on one, had to get back to the crib and count 'em
Had to get back to the six, get bucks
Steppin' off race, now I'm eight foot one
Where you trippin'?
Say what comes around, comes right back
702 LV my bag
Got six figures walkin' to the building, get racks
Five boys snuggled, four busy off track
Two, two, threes, now I'm a round man
One big drink and my books on the mat
Dead man walkin' with a blade in the mask
No soul, but I do it so I'm blinkin' in the pan like, uh, yeah

Throw that bone, this my time, this that, uh
Leave me alone, this that fire, let it bang
I get that chrome, leavin' my home to that stage
And beside trippin', I got oppas, it's the game

(AB6 the gang
Got that laser pointed at your brain
Don't do this shit for fame
Pop a .40, fuck up all these lames
AB6 the gang
Got that laser pointed at your brain
Don't do this shit for fame
Pop a .40, fuck up all these lames
AB6 the gang
Got that laser pointed at your brain
Don't do this shit for fame
Pop a .40, fuck up all these lames
AB6 the gang
Got that laser pointed at your brain
Don't do this shit for fame
Pop a .40, fuck up all these lames)