- Votes:
- Composers:
- Carter
- Dwayne/thicke
- Robin A./gass
- James D./keyes
- Robert Bradford/daniels
- Robert Louis
 
- Genres:
- Pop
- Rnb
 
- Tags:
- modern rnb
- neo soul
- old school soul
 
- See also:
Robin Thicke - Shooter lyrics
Yeah, yeah, yeah, Weezy, baby, y'all don't get shot
 Rapid fire, what you know about it?
 I brought my homie along for the ride
 He strapped, he can't wait to come out the barrel
 I heard some shouts like "Down on the floor"
 Then even louder, "We got shooters, shooter"
 I turnin' around, I was starin' at chrome
 Shotgun watches door, got security good
 Jumped right over counter
 Pointed gun at winkin' teller
 I'm your shooter, shooter, shooter
 My hands up, my hands up
 They want me with my hands up
 Oh, shooter
 My hands up, my hands up
 They want me with my hands up
 Oh, shooter
 So many doubt 'cause I come from the South
 But when I open up my mouth, all bullets come out
 Bang, die, bitch nigga, die, I hope you bleed a lake
 I'ma play X-ray, helpin' y'all see the fake
 I'm just tryin' to be the great, tryin' to get a piece of cake
 Take it offa your plate, eat it right in your face
 They got a whole lot to say but I don't listen
 Call me Automatic Weezy, bitch, I keep spittin', pow
 With all these riches and all these riches
 But ain't no loaners around
 They thinkin' about shooters that, shooters that
 Guns, girls, ladies that, gunners that
 Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shooter
 Yeah, hands up
 They want me with my hands up
 Oh, shooter
 No, no but I'm not
 I just cry, mama, I think they, hey
 I think they want me to surrender, shooterRobin Thicke - Shooter - http://motolyrics.com/robin-thicke/shooter-lyrics.html
 And to the radio stations, I'm tired of bein' patient
 Stop bein' rapper racists, region haters
 Spectators, dictators, behind door dick takers
 It's outrageous
 You don't know how sick you make us
 I wanna to throw up like chips in Vegas
 But this is Southern, face it
 If we too simple, then y'all don't get the basics
 Lady walks into a shotgun surprise
 Dropped to her knees, saw her life before her eyes
 He said, "Bitch is gonna get it", everybody gon' regret it
 I'm your shooter
 My hands up, my hands up
 They want me with my hands up
 Oh, shooter
 My hands up, my hands up
 They want me with my hands up
 Oh, shooter
 Sock soakin' wet, I been runnin', y'all
 I reload every hundred yards, I'm comin' forward
 Better know me, Lil' Wayne, just call me Lord
 Hard, take pain like Tylenols, raw way past par
 For I'm some shit you never saw
 I take you to the shootout, baby, win, lose or draw
 Yeah and then they ask who, when, where, how
 And my reply was simply pow
 They want me to surrender
 Oh, shooter
 My hands up, my hands up
 They want me to surrender
 Oh, shooter
 No, no
 I promise no surrender
 I got my burner
 And I'm your shooter
















