No Pistols - Twista feat Speedknot Mobstaz

Yeah, Mobsta stiddyle
Let's ride on them b_tches
It's time to go to war n_gga
You ready?

[Chorus: Twista (Liffy Stokes)]
Don't wanna see you, with no, pistols if you ain't ready to roll n_gga
(Put down that .45)
Don't wanna see you, with no, pistols if you ain't ready to roll n_gga
(Gotta let that 40 ride)
Don't wanna see you, with no, pistols if you ain't ready to roll n_gga
(Let's do a homicide)
Don't ever wanna see you, with no, pistols if you ain't ready to roll n_gga
(You ain't ready to ride)

Don't wanna see you with that fo'-five unless you gon' ride
If I say you gon' die, motherf_cker I get so live
But you be procrastinatin
I think you f_ck around with pistols cause they fascinatin
You motherf_ckers ain't gon' do nothin, when you get through frontin
N_ggaz out here already know that you ain't gon' shoot nothin
End up at the Pearly Gates when they test you
Got a dirty face but what you know about a .38-special?
Sheeit - and I know them hard words make you jump
But what your heart worth when you got the Mossberg pump, b_tch?
And the shorties lookin at you like a punk b_tch
Cause you ain't makin what you claim, ain't gon' dump click
You gon' cry when you hear them bullets dumpin when them shorties come and ride on you
When the pistol click-clack
If you still alive will you really get to dumpin if you got that .45 on you?
Tell them b_tches get back


Once upon a time in the Chi
there was three real killers who bust guns and puff fire
They cop weight by the ki, and back up every gram
And stay ready for bustin with the pistol in they hand
I'm preachin murder like a vicious reverend
About n_ggaz who claim they shootin but ain't never seen .357's
Now what reason would you hold it for?
Put that pistol down n_gga pick that weed up, roll it up
Twist up the lye, you don't really wan' die
Stop your bloodclaat lyin, your bullets don't fly
Freestyle ain't smooth like Vidal Sassoon
I keep the (Smif-n-Wessun) with me like I'm Black Moon
Toss up the livin room, stomp through the kitchen
I caught that n_gga in the bathroom sh_ttin and pissin
What you shakin for? I thought you said you ready to ride?
Don't be comin with me if you say you strapped because I


[Liffy Stokes]
I keep a P95 9-milli Ruger
You f_ckin with a shooter, quick to bloody yo' suit up
My aim impeccable, on point like a decimal
300 feet away in a tower snipin the festival
What you know about nines, and Glock .40's?
And .45's, AR-15's with the five-pound slide
30-shot clips, snub noses with the rubber grips
Wicked tecs'll put the kiss of death on your lover's lips
It's M-O-B n_gga, we quick to squeeze n_gga
AK-47's make them b_tches retreat n_gga
Like a G n_gga, I make 'em bleed n_gga
Come at me wrong and I'm bustin, that's on my seed n_gga
My war chest is filled with bullets and tecs
Ski masks, gloves and vests, so n_gga what's next?
N_gga, it's real thuggin, you a b_tch to the bone
If you ain't gon' do nothin shorty, leave them pistols alone


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