Yeah, yo,
J -Lo, they can't fade you on this one,
boy
Yeah, some of that
OG funk we about to
lay down on this track
My n***a shotgun back in the back of me gettin' fucked up,
you know what sayin'?
I'm flexin' the motherfuck
in' problem solv er
Finna solve a couple of problems,
you know what I'm sayin'?
Tellin' to my 9 -ho
I'm tired of this bullshit you tried,
bro
Tellin' to my 9 -ho with a 18
-round clip and a pearl
Grippin' if you slip, yo,
askin' where did it go
All because you play me close
If them slugs from the
Glock got popped
Was a drug he had and overdosed
Did what let before it was dead
He said he begged and cried and prayed
With the 9 -millia actin' silly
and sittin' to the grave
Now it's family matters,
fuckin' checkin' out with a straight sight
If you attended the fu neral,
you was a victim, yo, that same night
Hand on my
Glock, I went pop, aimin' for a stone
Hand on that chrome,
was shootin' until he was all gone
18 rounds a clip, that's all you heard
I left him stankin' on the
side of the road
Pushed to the curb, stankin' like a pas tor
No fingerprints,
no suspectin', no clue
But if you talkin',
it'd be your time to get in line
And talk to the nine, dude
With your face open wide and get a taste
You like a jack,
you get your caps peeled back
Fuckin' with an ace,
so I just thought I'd let your hoes know
I ain't took no shit in 93
Tell it to my nine, tell it to my nine
Tell it to my nine, tell it to my nine
Tell it to my nine, tell it to my nine
Tell it to my nine, tell
Tell it to my nine,
When at work I do more dirt than a little bit
Play your punk ass like a clock and bit
This is your last tick,
niggas get they ass kicked
When pullin' them on hoes
stunts
Motherfuckers steppin' up straight,
gettin' smoked like croak blunts
Livin' in
Flint
City, such a pity, but I'm holdin' my
Indy static, got a
Uzi automatic with that 9mm
Some contra fuckin' grill,
when I pull it, isn't it
Clippin' to your face'll make you
taste these fuckin' bullets
Cut your first mistake, you make a
B, your fuckin' last one
If you never have this time,
you feel the blast of a gun
And here's your fuckin' chance,
two sounds of a 9 and a type of sun to dance to
You live too long, your pill on life,
it's way past due
And
I'ma tax that ass like the government
Niggas try to run from it,
get done from it
Cause death is the punishment
But you can't run and
you can't hide
One trigger plus the trigger
Happy nigga equals homicide
Niggas keep quiet or speak
your motherfuckin' mind
But whatever you tryna say, bitch
You better tell it to my motherfuckin' nine
Tell it to my nine
Tell it to my nine
Tell it to my nine
I ain't tryna hear that
shit you talkin' bitch
Tell it to my nine
Tell it to my 9, tell it to my 9,
tell it to my 9, tell tell it to my 9,
Fuck all these motherfuckers,
I'm making sure these motherfuckers tell it to my 9.
I ain't trying to hear all that weak shit,
bitch, you know you can't fan this.
Lil
J.
Lo, keep that shit pumping boy!
Yeah, haha!
I got my nigga shotgun,
double barrel in this motherfucker.
And I'm flexing motherfucking problem solver, solving niggas problems,
you know what I'm saying?
Thank for