Tools Lyrics by Anybody Killa

Tools Lyrics

    I wanna know where the fuck are my down ass underground killas

    Straight cap peelas
    Walking the earth, been mean since birth
    Taking every damn thing in sight that's worth
    Somebody stabbing you in the back, for a pebble of crack
    Eastside bitches like that
    Sometimes I feel that I can't eat, can't sleep
    Put me in a hole baby 6 feet deep
    Better yet, just leave me alone
    I've survived this long with a microphone
    Roaming the streets, mean mugging police
    Left hand on my nuts right gripping a piece
    So now I feel that I owe it to ya'll
    You're the reason that I'm here instead of dead and gone
    And don't think that I'm here to stress you out
    I just wanna let you know what I'm about



    (Chorus x2) (Blaze Ya Dead Homie)
    Tomahawks, shotguns, axes, chains
    These are all the things that a G brings
    To your party, birthday, wedding, funeral
    Streets is crucial, competition zero


    Face facts, do the math
    You can try to relax but this killa ain't like that
    Wait a minute let me tell the truth
    I'm relaxed like a mothafucka tomahawking a fool
    Walk away just keeping my cool
    Like I'm sneaking in line at a big venue
    No traits, no motive, nobody, no clue
    Yo Blaze am I right? (WOOP WOOP)
    That's what the fuck I've been trying to say
    Me and my whole damn family acting murderous ways
    That's why we only gather once a year
    Because the world really can't afford to disappear
    So now we all break bread never misled
    And the drama that I bring you will never forget
    And the ones that's down no matter where you're at
    I'm just here to let you know that I got your back


    (Chorus x2) (Blaze Ya Dead Homie)
    Tomahawks, shotguns, axes, chains
    These are all the things that a G brings
    To your party, birthday, wedding, funeral
    Streets is crucial, competition zero


    (Blaze Ya Dead Homie)
    I'm bored as the come, homie don't be slipping acting dumb
    Shove the pistol in your mouth slightly quicker than some
    The streets are talking I be listening, hearing
    Repping for my thugs who got nothing to be fearing
    Ask me if I ever been jacked, I've been screwed and taxed, don't ask
    Some suckas with two little stripes to attack
    Mothafuckas ain't shit, I'm a soldier
    Drag bodies into coffins by they bitch ass shoulders
    Middle name Murda, Colton Grundy the rest
    You see me packing a gun in the vest
    Now do your best to stay alive, I ain't never gonna die
    Eternal like the galaxy, who wanna try?
    Me, I tell you one more time right I foze for mine
    Ain't no way ain't anybody gonna stop my shine
    Do the drivebys bitch smacking hoes and robberies
    I do it for the streets and the money, show respect


    (Chorus x4) (Blaze Ya Dead Homie)
    Tomahawks, shotguns, axes, chains
    These are all the things that a G brings
    To your party, birthday, wedding, funeral
    Streets is crucial, competition zero

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