Still Got My Gun - Slaine, The Arcitype, Vinnie Paz

Square peg in a round hole

I learned to do my dirt on the down low

Had to make some moves that would sound bold

But in that same dirt, I had found gold

So they label me a scoundrel

Guess I had a ruffle a couple feathers on my way up

But I’m a hustler

I didn’t give a fuck if I gotta harm ya or muscle ya

I been armed with the tools that we use in the trade of a renegade

Thrive in a game, you’re not able to penetrate

I’m not the same as you, I’m tried and true

This is something I died to do

Part of learning how to fly

Eventually, you hit the ground, crashin'

But at the bottom of the pain

I had found passion

Though I been gone for a minute

Now I’m back in it

We either overcome the past or get trapped in it

There’s a lot of things in life I know

We can go up so high and low

A lot of things I left behind that I once called mine

But I still got my gun

My gun, my gun

I still got my gun

Violently designed like the Trolls of Asgard

Silencers the size of a grown man’s arm

Listen, the scope pivot like a cyclops

Chrome so heavy the shooter had to use a tripod (Bong!)

The pistol long like a pool stick

Hammer hit the hollow like a baby in the womb kick

Listen, visual verb, missile swerve, hit your herbs

Feel the pistol burn, hit you like a whistling bird

All it take is half a shotty for half your body to fly a half a block at your

fuckin' block party

Pussy, your every word have a period

Your album comes with a free bo of tampons for serious

My lyricism’s the littyiest

Carry the torch for Brooklyn like Sean P and Biggie did

My demographic be Henny and Acid

My algorithms are savage and my religion is madness

There’s a lot of things in life I know

We can go up so high and low

A lot of things I left behind that I once called mine

But I still got my gun

My gun, my gun

I still got my gun

Boko Haram, stay calm, strapped with a bomb

Behind the mask of God, he can trap the divine

I got numbers and statistics, it’s a matter of time

Imma hit him with the .50 paw, Shaq at the line

And them fiends lined up, they be pacin' for days

Had a yopper put a hole inside his cranial cave

How the fuck you gon' walk into a maze in a daze

Muthafuckas being deviant and say it’s a phase

This ain’t fun and games over here, we make money

And y’all is always gon' be second like Chase Utley

This muthafucka think he the wolf, he the same puppy

It’s the same mask, same .45, and the same Duffy

You are goofy homie, we was never meant to be cool

I was taking people’s shit in elementary school

Feel it with both hands paw, read it in braille

And the whopper always with me homie, Kenan and Kel

Toma!

There’s a lot of things in life I know

We can go up so high and low

A lot of things I left behind that I once called mine

But I still got my gun

My gun, my gun

I still got my gun