Slim Jesus – Warning Shots Lyrics

Warning Shots by Slim Jesus
Released : 2017

Everybody know my name put respect on it
I justed copped a new whip spent a check on it
Rubberband Cartel

You ain’t really with shits
Put them glocks up
Free the gang out that mafuckin’ locked up
Like a janitor yo ass can get mopped up
So you better have yo’ gun when we Pop up
If I really want you gone
I ain’t gone this you
I put my shooters on yo’ ass
They gone get you
We be blasting off those gun’s like some missiles
I got 59 in this drum I ain’t gone miss you
Steppin’ out with my30 yea’, we Pop out
Catch an opp on his ass let them shots out
When I slide in the whip, ’till he walk out
Gun Shot gun shots now it’s cops now
Rob the plug hit his ass with the fake out
Glizzy on me, don’t give a fuck if the jakes out
If you really want smoke , bring the K out
Put his ass in a box, like some take out
Fuck that bitch, then I fucked on her cousin
She give me brain that’s concussion
I been on the macs since a yougin
Had to run up a bag, you know how I’m comin’
We ain’t locking bitch, we get to drummin’
40 shells leave you hot like the summer
When we pull up they know how we comin’
When they see us I bet they start running
Got the pack, you got robbed, you got nothin’
You ain’t makin’ no money quit bluffin’
Stop all that tweaking you frontin’
My savage will kill you for Nothing
Balmain on my ass cost a G
you ain’t smokin’ you on gas, that shit weak
If he want a verse, that’s a fee
I fell in love with the blue cheese
If he tweakin’ I’ll shoot him [?]
Try to rob, then I’ll give his ass wings
Goofy ass you can’t run from a beam
The Glock take him right off his feet
It’s a lot of sneak dissin’ for some fuckin’ clout
Goofy ass don’t try to loss your tryna run yo’ mouth
He say he got them shooters, bring the out
If he hiding in his crib then we wet his house
I was fucking on his bitch on his momma couch
‘Cause she know I got them bandz in my bank account
I’m not just anybody, I can’t just walk around
That’s why I pulled up in a foreign with chop down
I be rocking all designer from my head to toe
Let a fuckboy try to rob me, boy I can’t blow
I ain’t going for that shit, somebody let him know
If he run up on me wrong i’ma let it blow

Gang gang gang gang
Y’all know how the fuck we rockin’ man
Whol-alota gang shit that sane shit
2K17 shit bitch
Rubberband Cartel

● Listen to Pissed Jeans – Waiting on My Horrible Warning

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