Текст песни Warm Embrace - Twista

Warm Embrace

It’s like I got the 4−4 cocked\nOn the block in it two door dropped\nAnd my spot is keepin but hot\nThe pussy-ass cop throw some murder in the lot\nMy nigga got popped with a bullet that was meant for me\nThe adapt by T’s and B’s and the regencies\nFuck what the reason be, I’ma start squeezin these\nThem niggas ain’t G’s, they wanna be thugs\nAnd it ain’t shit, these ain’t no motherfuckin slugs\nThe fools and plugged plus ain’t no hoes over here\nI done dropped more dead bodies than tears\nBrought to life momma’s worst fears\nPictures of a son dyin from that hot ones flyin\nBaby mama’s cryin at the funeral\nCause the magnum lit him like a Black & Mild\nWhen I rolled out on his ass on the solo\nI caught him up on mo-mo cookin up co-co\nI got to tip on the low-low\nBust it there like po-po takin lives with the, oh no\nIt’s a 4−4, mini-missle with a silencer for the whistle\nMy favorite pistol, cause when I let that bitch ride\nI know the homicide is being carried out in official\nNiggas steady bumpin guns, but don’t want none\nBecause of these hot ones that explode on contact\nA manic that’s prepared to die in combat\nBesides all that a 4−4 keeps me laced, don’t be petty to say\nI can see the fear in your face\nas I reach my waist for this warm embrace\nI got plenty love for the 4−4\nBut when I pick it up, I don’t wanna let it go\nBecause a nigga straight lovin' your warm embrace\nI got plenty love for the 4−5\nBut when I pick it up, I don’t wanna let it ride\nBut still I bust 'cause I survive from your warm embrace\nI got plenty love for the nine-mill\nAnd when I pick it up, I don’t really wanna kill\nBut still I bust because I’m needin' your warm embrace\nAll you muthafuckas better duck and hide\nBefore I let it ride, the sucka stepped aside\nStill I bust because I’m lovin' your warm embrace\nI love the element of surprise when I’m taking these hoes lives\nWith my customized 4−5\nGet enough ammunition to knock off you, your crew and some more guys\nYou muthafuckas better get wise\nMake sure your first shot is sweet, tryin to kill the elite\nCause you ain’t gettin no more tries\nHate to make a nubian mother weap, but fuck it\nLong as I don’t hear the hoe cry\nSplit a beam between his eyes and make that bitch nigga so wise\nNo matter what the size of the warm embrace of my forty-five\nMake sure the nigga crossed through dies\nYou don’t wanna throw them thangs\nCause when I cocked and aim it’s time to think in a split second time\nBut Mayz ain’t new to the game\nI use the spark when the shots light up this thunderin crime\nBut niggas get bucked for dime and it’s like you’re a magnet for sin\nPunk pretend to be your friend til they get close enough to your ends\nTo do you in, that shit puts me on ten\nAnd make me wanna put the barrel of this solid fiend\nUpon under that nigga’s chin, plus he talkin big shit about war\nLike he don’t know my Speedknot Mob gon' win\nBut I dare one of you niggas to say my name\nCause I put a fuckin bullet into your closest kin\nJust to get under your skin like a dirty syringe\nPlus I know you can’t win with a gun or a pin\nSo when you see Mayz come in the place you better say your grace\nBefore I fuck up your face like a can of mace\nBefore I get disgraced, I’ma catch a case\nMaybe you hoes fear the wrath of my warm embrace\nWith you my passion, nina squeeze off seventeen, for sure\nHold you ever so tightly, I love you nina and never wanna let you go\nMiss Millimeter’s makin a mockery of motherfuckers gotsta be ruckus\nWhen I get my clutches upon this hoe\nItchin' to let the barrel blow\nLike a sparrow, how it flow, like an arrow, geronimo\nSpit 'em up and swallow slow\nI reload, clippin' your ass crack, you constantly blast back\nPayback from flashback, some bitches know\nBust 'til I see the chrome from the intro\nYou was fucked from the phasin', deep with the cuts and abrasion\nErupts and amazin', nigga, my nina bucked\nFuck the gazin and enemies get tore up from the blazin\nFool you be burnin' them with your black ass\nMurderous hips, hurtin' the grips, ride on personal list\nDeposition die for servin' them six\nEveryone of 'em with a hit but some are missin' of a jerk to the kick\n'Cause I be working my bitch\nTryin' to pimp her but she a wild and a tame thang\nKick a static on when she gangbang, blast in the fullest moon\nNiggas better pull it soon or else suffer hellafied bullet wounds\nAnd even though I stay clubbed with some thugs, why call 'em stug\nWhen it comes to her love, it’s none above she drawin blood\nStatic under the bra 'cause everytime I take a hit at the bud\nAnd give you a hug you gon' pop up a slug\nDrinkin' remy on the block, gotta bust the glock\nWhen the henny hit the chest, bustin' smith-n-wess\nFuck the discussion, I’m bustin' 'em all, clutchin' my balls\nIf I see y’all be laid to rest, let me hit the sess\nLoose revolver used to be a problem solver\nBut the nina made me a baller\nNo strap could take the place of the black nine\nLeave 'em flat lines, feelin' fury, you was born to taste\nFrom my warm embrace\nI got plenty love for the 4−4, 4−4, 4−4\nWarm embrace\nI got plenty love for the 4−5 (4−5), 4−5 (4−5), 4−5\nWarm embrace\nI got plenty love for the nine-mill (Nine-mill), nine-mill