Gone In 30 Seconds Lyrics

Gone In 30 Seconds lyrics

[Royce Da 5'9"]

(Yeah) So you talkin about me so you can get known

'Til the .9's is out flyin out with the split bones

I learned you just talkin, it's just a song

Your words will not turn to sticks and stone

Don't worry about murder my mob won't do it

Only worries is worryin how I'm gon' do it

That mouth you got, it'll create yo' hype

And you might wanna watch it cause it could save yo' life



[Chorus: Royce]

I don't mess with what I can't leave in less than thirty seconds

You will rest in a box in back of a hearse if I feel threatened

You got your vest on but I don't know why cause my AK say it's just a shirt

You be bench-pressin the earth and not blastin or askin questions, first



[Royce Da 5'9"]

Yeah.. c'mon, yeah.. M.I.C...

Of all I'm a gangsta, the album is scary

I'm Malcolm, I'll get down if necessary (necessary)

By any means - in which 

you breathe in the mic is the reason you left with a skinny team

This .9 rings, settin 'em straight

The rest, I'll show 'em what the five fingers said to the face

If, act hard and you will head for the Gates

And I don't mean the one in your backyard; I'm talkin Pearly

Christians call it sinnin (yeah) Muslims call it winnin

and witnesses call me worldly (worldly)

This life is full of the type of nigga that'll pull out a gun or a knife

Do it and run off in the night

We specialize in the truest to ever ride

You slip you lose your life, you blew it like a breathilizer

Asbestos flames come out of his mouth, he a rider

The next best thing to the Mafia and my motto is



[Chorus]



[Royce - over Chorus]

Yeah.. Rock Bottom nigga, yeah

T-Dot nigga, yeah, the M.I.C.



[T-Dot]

Spittin real life from this shit

AK rifle with clips is chrome with the knife on the tip

Or two .9's sit right on my hip, that'll light up your strip

And if you drivin let 'em die in your whip

Moms cryin and shit, fuck talk, better duck the lead

Cause them bullets poppin out the toaster like Wonder bread

Rhyme with your Lex out, chief in ex' house beaten

when I whip tecs out you stressed out bleedin

Wife and kids get X'ed out even

Kill stress out, catch 'em leavin while I'm in the next house squeezin

Stop breathin when barettas be spittin, I never be missin

We actin like the gun law never resistant (whoa)

See I laugh when niggaz be stuntin

Cause one flick of a button'll pop the stash and the triggers be thumpin

Dumpin niggaz ain't killin right, dealers ain't dealin right

Fuck the mic, real life, this is what I'm feelin like (like)



[Chorus]



[Royce Da 5'9"]

Uhh.. D-Elite nigga, yeah

Tre Little nigga, yeah, c'mon, yeah



So you talkin about me so you can get known

'Til the .9's is out flyin out with the split bones

I learned you just talkin, it's just a song

Your words will not turn to sticks and stone

Don't worry about murder my mob won't do it

Only worries is worryin how I'm gon' do it

That mouth you got, it'll create yo' hype

And you might wanna watch it cause it could save yo' life



[Tre Little]

Yo, whatever homie, you can go and take that chain off

Respect the pistol, it's official, Little got them thangs out

I hang out at bars where shots ring out at cars

I game all your broads like, "Ho, come with a star" (c'mon)

E'rybody know me, well at least in the D

Gotta be top three; Gordy, Zeke or me

Arrogant as a fuck, like "Damn, I match my truck"

Gun and chain ain't tucked, you don't wanna run up (you don't want it)

Yeah, it's just not worth it, I got stripes like a zebra

Make you run like a cheetah, I don't mind if we meet up

Your neck a lil' froze, then let me turn the heat up

Burger and the beef up, I'm like Kain when I creep up

Hold me down, run them sneakers

Homie I don't know your people, yeah I'm bout to fly my eagle man

And I don't care what y'all say in these streets

We deep, D-Elite'll Nyquil you to sleep, yeah



[Chorus]



[Royce - over Chorus]

Yeah, uhh, yeah

Yeah, yeah.. this that shit right here K

Yeah, shooter music nigga

We call this shooter music



[T-Dot]

Uh-huh, yea

Royce fever nina, T-Dot range

Tre Little, Rock Bottom

M.I.C., yeah