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Artist: Deliciouss T
Album:  T.W. Chokehold Singz the Booze
Song:   Show Me the Gun
Typed by: Deliciouss T *


Rocking out to De La while I'm walking down the avenida
Eying all the Spanish divas act like I ain't had one neither
Studying abroad learning local customs cat calls
Summer heat got the broads in the tube tops sans bras
And aww, man, the Lish is laying plans for playing
In Madrid Spain when little men two of them step up threatening
Gimme all your money all retarded started talking funny
As if incoherent ranting has a chance to get it from me
Getting my attention, fucking pulling off my headphones
Interrupting "Stakes Is High," I swear you dead holmes
And besides my dough is stacked cuz I just hit the cash machine
To rob me now's as smart as if you tossed a match in gasoline
The way that you and tu amigo speaking straight retarded like
I'mma make it permanent, lights out, I start a fight
Catch first dude dead center, cave his chest in
Knock him to the ground, turn around and now the second
Catch the upper cut cut my knuckles on the kid's jaw
But seeing policia, no need, I let them limp off
Besides, I'm not a fighter, it's Benevolent T
To my friends who know me well, I'm just defending my green
If you wanna rob the lishest of his riches bring the biscuit
And show me the gun, show show me the gun
I need to see the heater and your willingness to wield it
And show me the gun, show show me the gun
Better come convincing if you can't I wouldn't risk it
And show me the gun, show show me the gun
You ain't gonna kill me, then your blood I'm gonna spill it
And show me the gun, show show me the gun 
Just a couple weeks ago, strolling, thinking up a flow
Some dudes tried to shake delicious down for all his fucking dough
walking from Atlantic past the Target 'round the back
I'm the target for attack like a target's on my back
Retarded ass fool is fronting hard as if he's strapped  
He ain't really had a gat, so this artist had to snap
You ain't MOP, spare me on the art of getting jacked,
When I know for a fact that this tard ain't gonna clap
Ain't holding shit but his face, bout to catch a smack
Yo I'm smarter than this cat, you how this asshole trying to act?
Walking up and talking pass that phone or I'mma shoot you
You ain't shooting shit but the breeze, please, move dude
Thinks he bout to take a free phone and all my green home
Thinks I'm gonna sing fo'em, give up my things fo'em
Just cuz a dude sing poems turned ringtones
Don't think I'm gonna flinch, it don't mean a thing holmes
I work around bad ass bastards who'd really buck off
A couple shots, but that ain't you, so kindly fuck off 
T don't make it his business to quibble with criminals
But you ain't mugging me with execution so pitiful
When the danger of possible execution is minimal
Be clear and direct not suggestive subliminal
Cuz the first thought crossing the mind when muggers walk up
Is this dude truly of a brood that'd make me cough up
My dough, well, the first thought's more like, "Oh shit!"
But after that I'm checking you to see if you're legit
My Spanish dudes, contemplate the need to communicate
and if guns are hard to come by in Spain, use a blade
I see what you wanna do, but it's not you
Scary dudes are usually taller than 5'2"
These Spanish bastards tryna make me frantic but I never panic
I'm not standing there stammering handing them none of money unless they can
manage to stand up and act like a man enough handle a cannon, goddamit
This goes to assholes all over the planet
If you can't hack it, then, can it 
To my Brooklyn brothers, better luck next time
My feeling is my phone is my own and you ain't getting mine
Sure you're pretending to have a gun to my back
But you just didn't seem like a brother who'd crack
If you gonna pull that, you better be ready to pull it back
Make it clap like it's a fact and make the lishest collapse
If you robbing me you better put the burner to my face
And convince me that I'm worth you catching a case
Going home with all my sheez unless there's chrome to my dome piece
T ain't giving his shit really til he see the 9 milli
You can't think small, y'all gotta go for the hard sell
Make me think you'd do hard time in a small cell
Like the lish between you dinner and a stomach with nothing in it
The difference's whether or not you lifting the dividends off delicious
Like shit that be at stake be as basic as a steak
I'm talking dinner on the plate for your kids in section 8
Crying, "daddy, can we eat yet?" if that's your position
Or at least I see the possibility, take my shit then
If you're really a killer, especially out of necessity
Here's all my stuff, but if not, do not mess with / step to / me