Black Moon - Powaful Impak! lyrics

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Black Moon - Powaful Impak! lyrics

Intro: Buckshot Hey yo, this is straight up for all them n***az out there Who fronted on some bullsh** in the beginning, f** dat (some reggae shouting) Verse 1: Buckshot Blaaaww! Here comes the Buckshot Shorty I k** black real, so guard your grill like naughty n***az call me Jeffrey Dahmer, why I'm quick to bombercars That f** your armor, cause I cause mad trauma No comma, straight through your mama like acid I f**ed her, then I did it, that's why you's a little ba*tard You talk mad sh** with no back up, what's up, act up You punk n***az get smacked up, word life You f**in' with the wrong n***a I f** too many on the mic, they call me daddy long trigger Mister Buckshot, makin' the gun hot From n***az that fiend to see my little a** rot Peep my style, check my level I'm so hot, I shot a f**in' fair one with the devil Booyakya!, watch your back, grab your f**in' gat Here come brothers who are ready to act Chorus: (samples of Busta Rhymes) (Powafal Impak) 4x Boom!! (the cannon) (Repeat) Verse 2: Buckshot Some pack a mac, I choose to pack a black 22 By my waistline, buckin' your whole crew I step through, and represent Black Moon First, before I kick a verse, I puff a bag of boo Lyrically I freak your funk you never heard My sh** is so fly, when I kick it, it's absurd Damn, how I wrecked your life with one record Made your crew break up and girl get naked Respected, because I work hard for my cash Shakin' more flavor then Mrs. Dash Look out below, my flow will hit your brain I got dough, but I still hop the train I'm bustin' n***az open, Attica style Yo, straight to the jugular, brother you're mad foul Gimme dat, because I rock with the best Yo, peace to the hardcore n***az, f** the rest Chorus Verse 3: Buckshot Fee, to the Fi, to the Fo, to the Funk I pop junk and keep the bump in the trunk Puff the skunk and get high, Oh lord Get on my skateboard and do a motherf**in' driveby You little crab a** flea Biting my style, you know the original rudeboy is me Buckshot, no joke, smoke a n***a like buddha Who the f** you think you playin' wit Yeah, I'm sayin' it Cause I want beef, for you can hang here right Yo, sometimes I wonder how the f** you get a mic But I don't sweat that, cause I 'm still paid n***az get bucked down, b**hes get sprayed I do what I want, just so I can make loot If it's an eagle, pack the gat son You know how we do, true Chorus (Assorted shout outs 'til end)

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