Jr Writer Man Down Lyrics
Man Down by JR Writer
Man down, get your gun, nigga
Fuck where you from, you's a bum nigga
Where you getting money at, huh, my nigga?
You ain't wanna jet, put your guns, my nigga
Brace yourself, I'll take you down a trip down memory lane
I was selling cane, in and out of jail since 17
Back when I was 12 I was probably selling everything
Had them high as hell, packs of crack that smacked their mary jane
It was me and TOD, word to GOD, we OD, keys on keys on keys
Man, I need my cheese, COD
Posted up on adult strip, loading up that black four fifth
Rolling up a fat ol' splif and I'm smoking till it black my lips
Bitch, you are a joke, don't make me spark the toast
I zoom in, that's a scary sight, that's your horoscope
How you balling, though? Fuck a cardinal
I should leave your car and all, you need another car, you broke
I had to laugh, your rapping act is rapping fast
You's a big of trash but some of those chicks, your bag is trash
I smash and dash while you get to have a lash
Bitch you with, that's an act, in other words I have the pass
Who the fuck is lyrical, I chew you up and finish you
Get rid of you, have you looking suited for an interview
It's pitiful, that girl you call boo is unkissable
I doubt the bitch recorded it, threw on'
You rappers suck, who the fuck you listen to?
I air you out, they pack you up, stupid, that's an attitude
Silly dudes, ridicule, I been in cloud forever
You think somebody better than y'all getting high together
I'm skipping by, different rides, switching by the weather
I kill their grind, they should come and bring them on a stretcher
Back with the kind of shit they say the game was missing
They don't think I'm sick well tell them haters listen
I school him on the spot, he gotta pay tuition
That dude Michael Fox had the same condition
Man down, get your gun, nigga
Fuck where you from, you's a bum nigga
Where you getting money at, huh, my nigga?
You ain't wanna jet, put your guns, my nigga
Fuck where you from, you's a bum nigga
Where you getting money at, huh, my nigga?
You ain't wanna jet, put your guns, my nigga
Brace yourself, I'll take you down a trip down memory lane
I was selling cane, in and out of jail since 17
Back when I was 12 I was probably selling everything
Had them high as hell, packs of crack that smacked their mary jane
It was me and TOD, word to GOD, we OD, keys on keys on keys
Man, I need my cheese, COD
Posted up on adult strip, loading up that black four fifth
Rolling up a fat ol' splif and I'm smoking till it black my lips
Bitch, you are a joke, don't make me spark the toast
I zoom in, that's a scary sight, that's your horoscope
How you balling, though? Fuck a cardinal
I should leave your car and all, you need another car, you broke
I had to laugh, your rapping act is rapping fast
You's a big of trash but some of those chicks, your bag is trash
I smash and dash while you get to have a lash
Bitch you with, that's an act, in other words I have the pass
Who the fuck is lyrical, I chew you up and finish you
Get rid of you, have you looking suited for an interview
It's pitiful, that girl you call boo is unkissable
I doubt the bitch recorded it, threw on'
You rappers suck, who the fuck you listen to?
I air you out, they pack you up, stupid, that's an attitude
Silly dudes, ridicule, I been in cloud forever
You think somebody better than y'all getting high together
I'm skipping by, different rides, switching by the weather
I kill their grind, they should come and bring them on a stretcher
Back with the kind of shit they say the game was missing
They don't think I'm sick well tell them haters listen
I school him on the spot, he gotta pay tuition
That dude Michael Fox had the same condition
Man down, get your gun, nigga
Fuck where you from, you's a bum nigga
Where you getting money at, huh, my nigga?
You ain't wanna jet, put your guns, my nigga