(Chorus 2x):
Bang, your head against the wall
Yall don't wanna go there I'ma go there
Yall don't wanna flow here U.S rep here

(Verse): Red Eye
What you know about run up in a cell-cell with the shank
Make'em yell-yell hope he don't
Stressing mail perfect time on the phone-phone
A minute in the mind cut him in the dome-dome
Going toe to toe tower quick to blow-blow
One to drop the weapon last is the first to go-go
Cell block life really gets trife-trife for the lunies watching you
Shit with the knife-knife
Plastic gloves to checking your doodoo smack you hard like a bitch
Make you boo who, su woo
Hear the call-call be ready to brawl-brawl
Or end up on a plate cause you stall-stall
Pack risk-risk take a flight risk get rid of the weapon
And become a good actress, observation rule judge wanna get-get
Shit it out to put it in the mouth taste my own shit

(Chorus 2x)

(Verse 2): Gold Fish
Ashy to classy homie please pass me the hammer
Locking the block down like a slammer, spit that hood grammar
Stay scheming like I'm montana letting off clips the size of bananas
I'm feeding the gorillas rolling with those caps peelers
Leave a nigga burnt like a blunt of scriller
A known dealer push the hard to the back yard yall faggot niggas are
Too soft to go hard talking bout that bullshit you get knocked off quick
Yall like slutty chicks stay riding niggas dicks
The back talk a get a nigga mashed up, light hook to your chin
Leave your face bashed up
Enough is enough that's why I keep that hammer tuck
Vest protecting the chest that's how I give it up
Streets taught bout the rules to the game load the cock and aim
When it's time to bang

(Chorus 2x)

(Verse 3): Fetti Cash
I'm bout to move mountains the way I flip this flow I got the soul
Whose the master sho-nuff I got the glow, that 40 and a cross bow
Don't make me mash your potato, chrome on my shoulder
For you haters and you foes don't know, cop callers and jock knockers
I'ma top popper head knocker boon docker, boom shakalaka
The bandit will rock and shock ya, rocka bye baby don't make me
Run down on you clowns with the pound then shake you down
I don't air shit out cause I'm not a air shooter, I'm about hitting and
So when I shoot you're most likely gonna get hit, or you're dying no lying
This is homicide webside so don't get stabbed or shot or pushed off the
Or cracked with the bat, don't get tossed in back of that black truck
Cause there's no coming back from that
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Bang Lyrics

Fetti Cash – Bang Lyrics