Z-Ro - M16 (feat. P.O.P. & Trae) Lyrics
[Hook: Z-Ro]M16. I'm reloadin' my magazine.And I will murder ever bumber clot run.Keep my hand, on my gun, whoa.[Trae:]I don't think they want the beef 'cause these type of problems ain't fin to go away.These friends I'm packin' with me, remind you don't ever ***** with Trae.And if these *****es get up in you, ain't no need to pray.'Cause prayin' with this pain will have you prayin' they take you away.I still post up & let niggas know I don't bar a thing.I'm gangstafied mutha*****er, talk down & watch I make it rain.And it ain't nothin' that can stop it, I promise you that.I put that on the truth, my brothers & Mr. Fat Pat.Now if they really want it, these niggas gon' have to get it.I'm tryin' to put something on your mind just so you don't forget it.My M16 will be the reason niggas take a loss.When I get it out, just watch how fast this *****'ll rearrange your house.This shit I got will make the laws back up & get the swat.But even what they got, will give it up 'cause these bullets be hot.I'm like original roster, who wanna run with me.'Cause what I'm bringin' out, don't think they wanna ***** with me.[Hook: Z-Ro]M16. I'm reloadin' my magazine.And I will murder ever bumber clot run.Keep my hand, on my gun, whoa.[P.O.P.:]I keep a heater but I'm known for my murder 16's.Killer speaker killer beats, so I murder 16's.So they M16's, tote a M16.I call it my bodyguard 'cause they instance mean.In the streets of the city, it ain't no love.Them boys'll ***** you quick without no glove.I'm ridin' in haters' road blocks.Them jackers don't stop, they'll blaze your whole spot.So a nigga on spot with the gauges on *****.And them Orville Redenbach glocks is on pop.So P.O.P. I will P O P.'Fore I let another mutha... mutha... squeeze on me.In the H to the TX, you better pray or be X'd.See they don't play you'll be next, you better raise your protection.Yes son & just to see another day it's a blessin'.So I keep a weapon, my...[Hook: Z-Ro]M16. I'm reloadin' my magazine.And I will murder ever bumber clot run.Keep my hand, on my gun, whoa.[Z-Ro:]Yeah. Is it me glock 40, bump-bump-bump-bump? Nope.Is it me 45, bump-bump-bump-bump? Nope.Is it me 3-57, bump-bump-bump-bump? Nope.Me M16, tapin' off the murder scene.Inhalin' potent doja, with muddy cup of codeine.Me people don't even play me close 'cause them don't know me.Me don't want no company, me kick it with me lonely.And will murder anyone of you snitches run up on me.But my grandmother didn't raise a killer, she raised up a Christian.But the fact that I was already down & people kept kickin'.Made me crazy, that's why I got no love for nobody lately.And I told y'all once before, none of my weapons have a safety.Run up on me once, I'm a beat your ass down.Run up on me twice, I'm a heat your ass down.Place you in another dimension, nobody can see you now.Rest in peace, I'm the king of the streets, yeah.[Hook: Z-Ro] [x2]M16. I'm reloadin' my magazine.And I will murder ever bumber clot run.Keep my hand, on my gun, whoa.
