Pistol Pistol (Remix) Lyrics
[Intro: Obie Trice & Eminem]
O. Trice, come on!
Yeah
You, niggas, got me
I’ma get ’em
It ain’t over
[Chorus: Obie Trice]
You can catch me in the whip wit’ a fifth of pimp juice (Yeah!)
Then I’m poppin’ the clip, ’bout to fix this issue (Woo!)
You pray that I don’t hit, I ain’t equipped to miss you (No!)
You’re gonna need an ambulance to stitch your tissue (Nigga!)
Or either have a bag on your hip to shit through (Ha!)
You seen us on the ave, anxious to get you (Seen)
But my penis is a mag, when I lif’, it hits you (Da-da-da-da!)
‘Cause I don’t go nowhere without my pistol pistol
[Verse: Obie Trice]
I solemnly swear on my daughter’s tears
The nigga that got him in the head’ll feel it before the year ends
Hope you inconspicuous, my friend
‘Cause once the word get back, you in a world of sin
Bullets will hurdle at him for tryna murder what’s
Been determined as the first solo African (Me!)
To go platinum where the accident happened at
Well, maggots, I’m alive with vengeance to get back (Get back!)
My mama blood pressure was affected from that
My little girl need her daddy on the phone at a certain time
Exact now, and niggas act wild (Foul)
But when the MAC come out, y’all niggas exile (Blaow!)
And I don’t wanna hear X-Y-Z
I’m X’ing out your whole entity for tryin’ to kill me (Me, nigga)
Filthy motherfuckers, I’ll show you what real be (Real be, nigga)
When these HTB’s light up your kidneys (Woo!)
I’m so sincere, you see in a hearse this year
It’s not a verse, it’s a curse from birth, and what’s on your person over here?
This is Obie, hear him clear, niggas beware
We’re coming at you with firearms in air
And your purpose so superfluous, how could I be merciful
When murkin’ me’s a mercenary’s goal?
Nigga, I got paper, I’ll have your ass urgently exposed (What?!)
No emergency’s bringin’ back your souls
Slugs shatter your bones for pat-pattin’ me in the dome
Learn this patter-in, we catch him at home, he wrong
That’s when automatics sporadically catch him in the abdomen
Another dirty motherfucker’s gone (Yeah!)
[Chorus: Obie Trice]
You can catch me in the whip wit’ a fifth of pimp juice (Yeah!)
Then I’m poppin’ the clip, ’bout to fix this issue (Woo!)
You pray that I don’t hit, I ain’t equipped to miss you (No!)
You’re gonna need an ambulance to stitch your tissue (Nigga!)
Or either have a bag on your hip to shit through (Ha!)
You seen us on the ave, anxious to get you (Seen)
But my penis is a mag, when I lif’, it hits you (Da-da-da-da!)
‘Cause I don’t go nowhere without my pistol pistol
[Outro: Obie Trice & Bizarre]
“Second Round’s on Me”
(Robbin’, shootin’, killin’, murder)
Oh shit, run!
(Robbin’, shootin’, killin’, murder)
