This is a song about "Pistols"

See these lights got me on another level

Heads were droppin', pistols poppin', teens coppin' metal,

My paper long, yep, you left alone, you gets no fucks

You packing pistols? well bitch i’m packing iraqi missiles,

Cant beat me when i come out with these pistols drawn

Pay a whole semester in a motherfucking song

But then say you're from the ghetto and you're packing pistols?

Can we take shots? what's your flavor? flat drinks we call a cups

Okay he’s gone now, roll her eyes when he whispers in her ear

Y'all say you're holding pistols here, now i see crystal clear,

My pistols represent mebust until my rounds emptyback for the street fame

Let you niggas know milita my gang, mcn if you was thinkin’ it’s a game

Ripples ripple, riffle signals like raised pistols,

Ho, slut, no love, turn beef to cold cuts

The next day you is everybody target

Lotta' niggas rap about pistols but they dont kill shit