Not going to Iran, I’m not going to Iran
Free all the shooter (yeah)
Never back down from a man, nigga, I ain’t never ran
Never back down from a man, nigga, I ain’t never ran (no, no)
If they book me for the draft, I’m not going to Iran (no)
Call me Gucci Peter Pan, I keep flyin’ to the bands (ah)
I do stunts like Jackie Chan
I just touched down in Japan
Since they let me out the can, I keep runnin’ up the bands
In the Arab with the sand
I’m so hot, I need a fan
I’m so black, can’t get no tan
But I feel like I’m the man
I put diamonds in my bands
Ice so cold, can’t feel my hands
I can’t go to work for nobody
Bitch, I got my own bodies (Yeah)
Errybody got a couple skeletons in the closet
Bodies go to droppin’, it’s on and poppin’
Me and my niggas went shoppin’ for choppas
Bought bombs and bazookas, is that what you want?
Life of a sniper, pray for my rifle
Pray for my rival, then shoot at my rival
I don’t go to sleep, I just dream with my Bible
Thinkin’ ’bout bringing home nothing but survivors
Jump off the tower, money and power
Send me the world but you nothin’ but a coward (woo)
Shoot you in Broward, students at Howard (yeah)
Play with my life ’cause you feel you in power
Bum in her blouse, blew out her bowels
Got caught and got red and got tortured for hours
Think I’m a lick, got a stick in my trouser
Re-rock machine, I’m pot droppin’ the powder
Flag on your casket, then send you some flowers
Gucci on bucket, I’m tellin’ you now (it’s Gucci)
I see my opp then I’m gunnin’ him down (graow)
Tell my lil’ hitter to start pointin’ ’em out (him)
Know what he do, so I keep him around (him)
Gave him the backend, he don’t say a sound
Never back down from a man, nigga, I ain’t never ran (no, no)
If they book me for the draft, I’m not going to Iran (no)
Call me Gucci Peter Pan, I keep flyin’ to the bands (ah)
I do stunts like Jackie Chan
I just touched down in Japan
Since they let me out the can, I keep runnin’ up the bands
In the Arab with the sand
I’m so hot, I need a fan
I’m so black, can’t get no tan
But I feel like I’m the man
I put diamonds in my bands
Ice so cold, can’t feel my hands
(So icy)
Real shooter been reckless (uh)
Put them boys on my guest list (whoa)
50 cal on my resume, 1017 on my necklace (word)
If I slap a mag and put it in the dirt (yeah)
It’s just automatic reflexes (woo)
Got two bad bitches from Texas (yeah)
I might slap a ho if she messy (ah)
I burn them off for my kids
Damn, I’m legit
Pour the Johnson with the shit (who?)
I break ’em off like a KitKat
Hard as a brick, ain’t got no time for no kick back
I’m a motherfuckin’ veteran, Obama is my president
Might pull up to your residence
Bring the fire, bitch I’m negligent
Open fire, I might find ya
Pin the gun, white house might find ya
Damn my conduct so disorderly
I track the nigga quarterly
They closin’ up the doors for me
Might slip, my drip too watery
You can blame it on the saucery
Eat a pew, bitch, take it overly
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