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Lyrics » Letter : R » Artist : Robin Thicke » Shooter [*] Lyrics

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Shooter [*] by Robin Thickeالقصائد الغناءيه -текстове на песни -texty -paroles -στίχοι -गीतletras -songteksten -тексты песен -versuri -tekst utworu -testi -the text of the song - - نص الاغنيةтекста на песента -tekst pjesme -text písně -teksten til sangen -teksti, laulu -le texte de la chanson -το κείμενο του τραγουδιού -पाठ के गीतEl texto de la canción -de tekst van het lied -der Text des Liedes -teksten til sangen -o texto da canção -Текст песни -textul de la piesa -Texten till låten -il testo della canzone

Shooter [*] by Robin Thicke

     

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Yea, yea, yea
Weezy baby y'all, (yeah)
Don't get shot
Rapid fire, what you know about it?
I brought my homie along for the ride
He strapped, he came here to come out the barrel
Rob

I heard some shouts like "Down on the floor"
Then even louder we got shooters, shooter
I turn around, I was starin' at chrome
Shotgun watches door, got security good (check)
Jumped right over counter
Pointed gun at, Winky tell her
I'm gon' shooter, shooter, shooter

My hands up (yeah)
My hands up (yeah)
They want me with my hands up
Oh, shooter
Oh, shooter

I think they want me to surrender
But no, I can't do it
But no, I can't do it

My hands up (yeah)
My hands up (yeah)
They want me with my hands up
Oh, shooter

I think they want me to surrender
But no, I can't do it
But no, I can't do it

So many doubt 'cause I come from the South
But when I open up my mouth, all bullets come out
Bang! Die bitch nigga die I hope you bleed a lake
I'm a play x-ray, helpin' y'all see the fake
I'm just tryin' to be the great, tryin' to get a piece of cake
Take it offa your plate, eat it right in your face
They got a whole lot to say but I don't listen
Call me automatic Weezy bitch I keep spittin', pow

With all these riches and, all these bitches
But ain't no looters around
They thinkin' about shooters that shooters that
Guns Girls Ladies that Gunners that
Shoot shoot shoot shoot shooter

Put my hands up
They want me with my hands up
They want me with my hands up
Oh, shooter

But I'm not
I just cry mama, I think they, hey
Me think they want me to surrender (Shooter)

And to the radio stations, I'm tired o' being patient
Stop bein' rapper racists, region haters
Spectators, dictators, behind door dick takers
It's outrageous
You don't know how sick you make us
I want to throw up like chips in Vegas
But this is Southern face it
If we too simple then y'all don't get the basics

Lady walks into a shotgun surprise (yeah)
Dropped to her knees saw her life before her eyes
He said "Bitch is gonna get it" everybody gon' regret it
I'm your, shooter!

My hands up, my hands up (yeah)
They want me with my hands up (yeah)
Oh, shooter
Oh, shooter

I try tell you what I am baby

My hands up, my hands up (yeah)
They want me with my hands up (yeah)
(Sorry but me no surrender)
Oh, shooter
Oh, shooter

Me won't surrender, me no pretender

Sock soakin' wet I been runnin' y'all
I reload, every hundred yards I'm comin' forward
Better know me, Lil Wayne just call me lord
Hard, take pain like Tylenols, raw
Way past par, far, I'm some shit you never saw
I take you to the shootout baby win lose or draw
And then they ask who when where how
And, my reply was simply pow!

Mama, I tink dey, hey, me tink dey want me to surrenda'
(Shooter, my hands up, my hands up, they want me to surrender)
Mama, I tink dey, ey, me tink dey want me to surrenda'
(Shooter, my hands up, my hands up, they want me to surrender)

No, me won't surrenda, no, no
I promise no surrenda'
I got my burner
And I'm your shooter

Writer : CARTER, DWAYNE / THICKE, ROBIN / GASS, JAMES / KEYES, ROBERT / DANIELS, ROBERT
Copyright : Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., EMI Music Publishing

These lyrics are not available for printing.

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