Shoot Game

[Intro: Julius Luciano]
I got an inoperable illness, you can't doctor it
Got a degree in talkin' noise, poppin' shit, Doctorate
Got a struck match flow, hot shit, Tobasco
Guns give you the blues, I'm Armstrong, Satchmo

Luci in this bitch, nigga, yikes
(x4)

[Verse 1: Julius Luciano]
Luci in this bitch nigga, y'all niggas bitch niggas
Adhere to the program, stick to the script nigga
Y'all dudes inconsistent, every season you switch
Coffee dudes change colors when cream's in the mix
I'm finna get rid of you insects blockin' the way
It's like pesticide when them choppers'll spray
It'll literally get ugly, enemy get shot in the face
The minute I pop in the place, I'm clockin' my pay
I get P-A-Y, no L's, no time for the play
I feel like a candle cuz I get chicks to blow me and I'm on top of my cake
Yeah, I never wait for green, I always ran a light
I control my will and fortune, no Vanna White
Fuck your chain, I'll snatch it like the silencer on my hammer like
My gun knows its right to remain silent, Miranda right
Never touch my dough yo, I'm stingy and I ain't carin'
Spit on Ozzy Osbourne's wife because I hate sharin'
Yeah, I'm the best, swingin' wood baby, Hank Aaron
I ain't got no kids, I never fuck a bitch that ain't barren
Wave pool shit, yea your boy's flow is movin' you
Leave you niggas missin', no corpse at your funeral
Fire you at your job, I mean torch to your cubicle
I'll be in your veins, no 4th Roman numeral

[Hook: Julius Luciano]
Shoot game nigga, my crew way iller
Got a bad ass chick and you can't get her
And I keep a .44, my blue flame spitta
That's my Jerry West pistol, I shoot game nigga
I'm a shoot game nigga, my crew way iller
Got a bad ass bitch and you can't get her
And I keep a .44, my blue flame spitta
That's my Jerry West pistol, I shoot game nigga

[Verse 2: Kenny]
Yo, it's Kenny Siegel my nigga, dubs up
And of course I'm high, so I'm what's up
Might see me racin' in the Lam' like I'm on the LAM, push
Or in your bushes in the A.M., ambush
I'll spit a 16 if you don't think this shits mean
You can sit opposite of my inf beam or you can lick my dick clean
And I never beg but bitch please, I'm your worst nightmare, but your bitch dreams
Stickin' that bride in her room, diggin' and drillin' inside of her womb
Sippin' and poppin' a brew, feelin' like I'm at the tippity-top of the roof
I'm high and fly, feelin' like I'm fixin' to fly to the moon
If you ain't talkin' no loot, your words just sound like bippity-boppity boo
I'll lay a nigga on his back like loose tramps
Then put him in his trunk like new amps
I train heavy everyday like this bootcamp
You motherfuckers too light like deuce lamps
Of course I'm always in the hood like food stamps
Recordin' shockin' shit like news cams
Pissed off like I'm down to my last 2 grams
And motherfuck a pig, though that dude's ham
I'm hard as a pillow at Barney Rubbles
I'm hard enough to make metal look soft and supple
I'm in love with my gun, me and my larkin' snuggle
We talk and cuddle, she loud so her bark is muffled

[Hook: Julius Luciano]