Testo Lost with gunz Tyrese

Lost with gunz

featuring Nicole Wray

I applaud you for being the brand winner of the family
I applaud you for beating the niggers who couldn’t stand you.
I applaud you for being who you be to the block.
But I don’t care too much for niggers holding the glock.
Broke be the reason that you’re wearing them shoes,
Broke be the reason you say fuck the rules
Broke be the reason that you get that urge,
Broke be the reason that you’re flipping them birds.
Man, who will be the reason that you carry the glock,
Man, who will be the reason that you rob the spot
Man, who will be the reason I keep stealing these cars,
Man, who will be the reason I’m behind these bars?
Gone all the time, but they never talk back,
So I’m forced to communicate about this weed and crack.
I refuse to crack, even though I met her all time low,
Let me drink to fit the courage to rob a store,
But what’s in store for a nigger with a quick come up?
That’s why you got to put the guns out, listen.

State of mind got you running wild,
I see you lost your confidence and your one two punch,
That’s why you’re running around lost with guns, singing to ‘em like
You’re just lost with guns, you’re just lost.
And when the shoe fits wearing, don’t take it off, yet,
Man, I ain’t made it through the song, yet.

I few blunts to make you go away, temporarily,
Soon as it fades away I drink a fifth of Henessy.
I think this fucked up reality is getting the best of me,
Praying I don’t have to wake up on the next to me.
My homies ain’t there, my mom’s not there, my pops ain’t there, ‘cause nobody cares.
I quit to blaming nigger for all the guns and violence,
But ain’t nobody around to get the nigger some guidance.
Throughout my childhood they told me I needed to make money
But when I grew up they didn’t teach me to keep money.
So I made a little money, I lose a little brand, may buy a little pussy, may pay for some help.
I keep a bag of lyrical caress to make you niggers see straight,
Hopefully the words in a song can get you out your own way.
If not, I feel bad for you, man, I’m talking to you, I feel bad for you.

State of mind got you running wild,
I see you lost your confidence and your one two punch,
That’s why you’re running around lost with guns, singing to ‘em like
You’re just lost with guns, you’re just lost.
And when the shoe fits wearing, don’t take it off, yet,
Man, I ain’t made it through the song, yet.

Listen, you be you, ‘cause you can’t be me
You’re done rolling thirty b, you try to MC Hammer me.
I’m an MC, born in the heat of the streets
And I’d be damned if I let a motherfucker hammer me.
Tattoo be the city of what on my wrist,
I know a few niggers that want to slice that wrist.
You tell me life’s a bitch, supposedly you die going to Heaven
I was damned to be an MC, quote to eleven
I saw my first Mac11 at eleven,
A base that was begging from my trip in Low Kevin
I see my next step chirp, got the federals listening,
I keep the heat plack but my cock be the position.
Man, I’m living in fear, moms told me bullets got no names
Because the bullets no more biggie packing jam, mr. J.
I know you think you bought us harder they come,
If I was you, I would run, ‘cause we’re running around lost with guns.

State of mind got you running wild,
I see you lost your confidence and your one two punch,
That’s why you’re running around lost with guns, singing to ‘em like
You’re just lost with guns, you’re just lost.
And when the shoe fits wearing, don’t take it off, yet,
Man, I ain’t made it through the song, yet.

Maybe someday you sit back in life and talk about the change, how you ain’t the same
Got to live with regrets, but for now who the niggers, come up at the game, off our victims to slain.
Don’t you be lost with guns, don’t you be lost with guns.
Don’t you be lost with guns.
I say don’t you be lost, don’t you be lost, don’t you be lost with guns.
Don’t be, don’t be, don’t you be lost with guns.

State of mind got you running wild,
I see you lost your confidence and your one two punch,
That’s why you’re running around lost with guns, singing to ‘em like
You’re just lost with guns, you’re just lost.
And when the shoe fits wearing, don’t take it off, yet,
Man, I ain’t made it through the song, yet.