Drum Gun by Kringe Lyrics
Hook-
Windows down hands go up
Drum gun make them run
Head my bust, cross the list
Tommy gun match Tommy fits
(uh)
Verse 1-
Turn the whole residence ghost town product of my hometown everything goes down (uh)
Somethin' like a wild west throw down two pace turn around stare into the chrome now (uh)
I am like a bad ass kid, nobody can tell me shit (Bout this bout this)
I used to be Lil bro, oh how the cards unfold Uno i win
Aye
Two unalike
Uh
You do more for the likes, front
Like I don’t realize, those chains look weird in the light
Your foreign, leased
Crystal, teeth
Old designer, vintage Tee
Bank, Freeze
Back up, fees
Rich, please
Like we don’t see
Check my, fees
I’m so felise
Stack a rack
Go it capish
Uh
Quietly
I Make moves don’t let anybody see
How you bust down VV's in Corollas?
That 1994, bitch you live with roaches
I’m no rich man, but i can't flex my brokeness
All black basic stitches, and I show Lo-Fi Vintage
Verse 2-
You not with my clique like that
You can’t take that sprinter back
No shows and no guest list pass
I don’t know that name you have
No flashbacks don’t name my past
I call how I see you act
Collab with my name attached
You ain’t never liked that track
Hook 2~~
Windows down hands go up
Drum gun make them run
Head my bust
Cross the list
Tommy gun match tommy fits aye
Windows down hands go up
Drum gun make them run
Head my bust
Cross the list
Tommy gun match tommy fits aye
Verse 3-
Tommy gun match tommy fits that yellow sporty vintage shit
That hang bag that don’t hold u shit just Flexy stupid stomp your shit
Uh
Talk some sense to me 'cause right now i make enemies
And friends only fuck that old Lil bro shit never hit me up like man who owe shit
Windows down hands go up
Drum gun make them run
Head my bust, cross the list
Tommy gun match Tommy fits
(uh)
Verse 1-
Turn the whole residence ghost town product of my hometown everything goes down (uh)
Somethin' like a wild west throw down two pace turn around stare into the chrome now (uh)
I am like a bad ass kid, nobody can tell me shit (Bout this bout this)
I used to be Lil bro, oh how the cards unfold Uno i win
Aye
Two unalike
Uh
You do more for the likes, front
Like I don’t realize, those chains look weird in the light
Your foreign, leased
Crystal, teeth
Old designer, vintage Tee
Bank, Freeze
Back up, fees
Rich, please
Like we don’t see
Check my, fees
I’m so felise
Stack a rack
Go it capish
Uh
Quietly
I Make moves don’t let anybody see
How you bust down VV's in Corollas?
That 1994, bitch you live with roaches
I’m no rich man, but i can't flex my brokeness
All black basic stitches, and I show Lo-Fi Vintage
Verse 2-
You not with my clique like that
You can’t take that sprinter back
No shows and no guest list pass
I don’t know that name you have
No flashbacks don’t name my past
I call how I see you act
Collab with my name attached
You ain’t never liked that track
Hook 2~~
Windows down hands go up
Drum gun make them run
Head my bust
Cross the list
Tommy gun match tommy fits aye
Windows down hands go up
Drum gun make them run
Head my bust
Cross the list
Tommy gun match tommy fits aye
Verse 3-
Tommy gun match tommy fits that yellow sporty vintage shit
That hang bag that don’t hold u shit just Flexy stupid stomp your shit
Uh
Talk some sense to me 'cause right now i make enemies
And friends only fuck that old Lil bro shit never hit me up like man who owe shit