az-lyrics.music369.com | Project Pat

[Intro-Colonel Loud]
Uhh, its your boy Colonel Loud
Know what I’m talkin bout
Them muthafuckin shooters nigga
Yuh, um
We got niggas out here, thinking they doing something
Might cross a nigga for a little bit of bread, but niggas ain’t worried bout that shit, man
I ain’t gotta get dirty my nigga
I’m a muthafucking boss, jefe nigga, I got shooters

[Hook-Colonel Loud]
I got shooters, got shooters, got shooters
My niggas they ride with the rugers
I got shooters, got shooters, got shooters
You know that my young boys will do ya
I got shooters, got shooters, got shooters
Don’t come in my trap with that bullshit
I got shooters, got shooters, got shooters, got shooters
My young boy he dumping that whole clip
I got shooters, got shooters, got shooters
My niggas they ride with the rugers
I got shooters, got shooters, got shooters
You know that my young boys will do ya
I got shooters, got shooters, got shooters
Don’t come in my trap with that bullshit
I got shooters, got shooters, got shooters, got shooters
My young boy he dumping that whole clip
[Verse 1-Project Pat]
My dope in the plastic
No questions asking
Robbery squad, with out masking
Choppers with scopes
[?] the hoes
Square ass nigga, livin with hoes
Russian rifle, with the banana clippers
It’ll tame everyone of you, monkey ass niggas
Nigga ran off with the drop, he got shot
Tried to run off in the spot, he got popped
Young niggas kill anything for the guap
Tell lil bruh smoke up then [?] the crop
Its payback bitch, thats why the bullets sailing
Took your head off, and yo bitch got to screaming
Y’all was on a date, bullets got to raining
Brains on the glass, what the fuck was he thinking?
Crossing the boss, get you lost in the sauce
Get yo ass blowed off, running off at the jaw

[Verse 2-Colonel Loud]
Lil nigga laying in the bushes, waiting for your ass to hit the front door
Catch a pussy nigga close range, leave his ass laying on the front porch
What it look like? I ain’t pull the triggas, all this motherfucking money that I’m making
I’m a boss in these Carolina streets, I seen a lot a rap niggas out faking
You ain’t bout that life my nigga, you ain’t never dozed off in the trap
Waking up to a fiend in your face, fist balled up, still palming on that crack
My young boy got a Glock that holds 17
He been shooting since he 12, now he 17
Don’t let my little nigga pull up on that Chevy thing
He don’t give a fuck, when he done, be spraying everything
And thats a motherfucking truth
See my shooters? They’ll shoot
When I give the green light they don’t ask no questions they just do what it do
I’m a motherfucking boss
Keep thinking I’m soft
I don’t get my hands dirty, I send my young boys, they’ll knock your ass off

[Verse 3-Shy Glizzy]
The one and the only, the Jefe
You play with my set, it get messy
Let niggas play with my fetti
Watch me swing round that weight like I’m [?]
These niggas funny like Eddie (Murphy)
I told your bitch here go a Bezzy (She Thirsty)
I got two bitches in Beverley, said that I’m buying one Louis, one Fendi
Got shooters, got shooters, got shooters (boom, boom)
I got mula, got mula, got mula (lot of it)
Your girlfriend, yes she’s a chooser
You can have her back that bitch a jeweler
Clip hanging out like a ruler (bang)
It’s big glizzy, bitch yes I’m the ruler (bang, bang)
They don’t want no work, they not stupid
Have choppers show that lil boy he so foolish (blahh)
Chase 7 [?], I mean the [?], [?] never killed, If I don’t? Well of course
All of these diamonds look like Mr. Floss
I spend the bands, I don’t care what it costs
I tell my young nigga, off
And he get to taking them off
Glizzy got 30s, and 50s, and 100s, You better bout face for them all