Artist: Apocalipps f/ Blizzard, Iron Mic
Album:  n/a
Song:   Tales of the Gun
Typed By: pneumatic

[Sample]
Your gonna die.

[Chorus: Apocalipps]
Tales of the gun, Thirty-two shots of snub ones,
They take enemies out, Even our loved ones,
We used to fight back in the days and get our ass kicked,
Now times changed, Thugs and guns is a bad mix,
Tales of the gun, Bangas and blades are ruff son,
Shit your dangerous with yours, Go ahead and bust one,
We used to fight back in the days and get our ass kicked,
Now times changed, Thugs and guns is a bad mix.

[Iron Mic]
Yo, These motherfuckers don't want no problems,
They yellin for war, Bet they fall back when we come with the arson,
Fuck all the talkin nigga we sparkin, Iron,
And nah this aint no crunk shit bitch, I'm straight New Yorkin,
When there's beef I'm known to stick my fork in it,
I'll poke your ass up, In other words stick my hulk in,
Tales of the gun, Pull out your ratchet,
Bust a couple in the sky if you aint never had shit,
Talk about guns mention the Bastardz,
You'll be force to strip butt ass, Surrender your assets,
Talkin out your ass, That's what your ass get,
I shoot when it's drastic, Not for no crab shit,
Picture me shootin a nigga over some bad chick,
But I'm persue'n a nigga over this rap shit,
I shot the lugger at luggers that act like chicks,
And shot the mack at these crackers who act like pricks,
(Your gonna die)
Shit, They just mad at the fact that we gettin big tips,
I spit the fifth at these jealous cats in my business,
They all haters, They don't want us to see no riches,
But that's the life we live, So keep your bitch.

[Blizzard]
Tales of the gun, It was just one of them days,
Drama popped off, Little man got punched in the face,
He said Blizz, Niggas keep steppin outta they place,
Then he strapped up, Said he had moves to make,
Drama's on, Shorty's just stuck in his ways,
He said, I gotta leave somethin stuck in his waves,
The boy better prey, Prey that I don't catch em,
When I got this weapon cocked back, Teach em a lesson,
(Your gonna die)
Then the enemy stumbled out the club all off point,
Arm harnessed all to his head with a joint,
And the tale is, Son did too much talkin,
The enemy grabbed his thing and they both started to barkin,
Everybody fleein the scene, Avoidin blood shed,
And when the smoke cleared they was layin on the floor dead.

[Chorus]

[Apocalipps]
This is a stick up, You don't wanna see the law get shootin,
I advise you to get butt naked like Marcus Houston,
Apocalipps aint tryna hear you aint got no loot,
Shake everything out nigga, Let's start with the boots,
I gotta little thirty-eight special, In case you think you special,
I cock it back and let reality catch you,
I got an old four pound, But it's not for sale,
In case some old drama spark I send shots air mail,
The gun collector, I'ma keep on buildin,
With a pump that'll put your ass in the air like Dominique Wilkins,
And don't try to be like those actors in movies,
You better know how to bust them thirty-eights and them uzis,
Barrels got hot like jacuzzis, Ohh my God, I love you tooly,
Heavy trigger finger try to smoke your ass like woolies,
You got these slugs with no names, What's the key of the cause,
Aint no cause, That fact is that that slug could be yours.

(Your gonna die)