lirik lagu el bandito - buck shots
[intro]
yeah!
buck shots through the speakers! (hahaha!)
b-tch!
el bandito!
come on!
you know how we do!
actually, you don’t… but you will soon!
hahaha!
[hook: sample]
[verse]
yeah!
mic check 1, 2!
goes a little something like this…
you got the wrong dude if you expect a soft tune
el bandito bombs you just to leave ya song doomed
i drop rude knowledge on ya odd group
tight jean saggers with a strong perfume
it’s bl–dy cruel that i have to use the knuckle tools
and scuff ’em for they upper jewels while snuff a m-th-f-cka too
tryna buck it loose but your weapon wouldn’t shoot
like a tec jam, stiff b-tches ain’t got a clue
i drop you from a helicopter circling round a group
of great whites scenting blood in a swimming pool
ripping you, experience your inner doom
forget a body bag, sh-t won’t even hit the news
coming through, machetes leave a bl–dy mess
i put ’em to the test than i peel flesh
these 5’4 tall suckers need to physically rest
since i got some m-th-f-ckas in my city to address
[hook: sample]
[verse 2]
verse 2!
invade ya airsp-ce, you f-cking queers fake
claiming beast on the mic, they in a wheelchair tamed
sleep away they days, half unconscious in they membrane
living in regret they tried to seal off my pen game
half–ssed has-beens looking for a placement
beats are in severe pain, funeral arrangements
(that’s what i’m talking ’bout!) satan needs a facelift
to say bandito’s ill is a f-cking understatement
i’ll endanger you wack herbs verses
you burst out stuttering words like you got cursed (and…)
forgot ya bars like an empty hard drive
try recite 800 thousand files in an archive
you ain’t pulling it off, you ain’t fooling us off
you ain’t shooting sh-t off, you stay rooting for us
buck shots through the speakers, damage nations
too many wack m-th-f-ckas should be cancer patients
[hook: sample]
[verse 3]
alright man, i swear i’m almost done with these m-th-f-ckas!
you all suck!
crying b-tches like a group tryna be the next wu
with pre-mature madonnas hating cuz, i rep the truth
spit death in the booth, check the canine t–th
you tryna bite with a producer who be like: play my beats!
the gat place you b-tches underneath before it’s tuesday
i tag spray initials of my crew name with blue flames
f-ck what you claim, biatch you weaker than loose change
wich will never make you m-th-f-ckas boost ya fame
cheap production and cellphone made videos
here we go, tryna rap fast with a petty flow?
we all know you blow, the way you catch ya breath
like every single line, deny it while crying in ya bed
hiding in ya bed, ya brother guards with a flashlight
here comes the boogeyman, with a blast strike
a hungry m-th-f-cka, recognize my appet-te
just learn you’ll never have what it takes to rap tight m-th-f-cka!
[hook: sample]
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