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My first name is Smith, my last name is Wesson, |
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But in yo hood I'm known as 357, |
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Have yo neighborhood punk quick to shoot a man, |
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An have Clark Kent thinkin that he's superman, |
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Wit six in the cylinders chambers, I'm the cup of curs that got ya |
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Feelin like the ultimate banger, |
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But some fools misuse my abilities, doin drive-by shootin everything |
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They see, |
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I'm quick to cap it in yo life if you tempt me, |
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Playin Russian ruelet but is the cylinder empty, |
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Fully loaded fool, you shouldn't have been trippin, |
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Then you wouldn't be holdin yo head in yo hands to keep yo brains from |
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Drippin, |
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I'm a lethal weapon registered in everythang, |
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Used by the police, dope dealers an yo local gang, |
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I'm the hardest mutha fucka alive, right in front of yo eyes, kill any |
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Man wit the quickness now who the fuck am I? |
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[Chorus] |
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I'm Mr. Tre-five-seven, quick to peel a cap, |
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I'm yo friend to the end, you know I got yo back, |
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I'm known to every trigga finga so everytime you squeeze, |
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I'm kick out so much heat I'm bringin he-man to his knees, |
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I'm Mr. Tre-five-seven, fool you know me, |
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I'm the reason why yo punk ass got locked up for that murder bee, |
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Cuz after all I'm only a gun, an a gun ain't got no love, |
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Remember that when you fill me up wit them hollow point slugs. |
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[Verse 2: C-BO] |
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Mr. Tre-five-seven, I send that ass to heaven, |
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Quick to murder mutha fuckaz, an quick to pull 211's, |
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I turn a big bad nigga into a cowardly lion, |
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An if he's thinkin about jackin, boy I'll keep his ass from tryin, |
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See I don't give a fuck, pull the trigga an I'll buck, |
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When you rollin wit tre-five, fool, whoever steps is suicide, |
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I never been a snitch, but if you do some crazy shit, |
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You besta have a hankerchief to wipe the finger prints off yo grip, |
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Cuz if you down I'm down, fool, it ain't no half-steppin, |
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I'm a leathal weapon, juss point me in his direction, |
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An ain't no tellin who I'll hit so you niggaz better run, |
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I'm Mr. Tre-five-seven, that's any kind of killaz gun. |
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[chorus] |
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[Verse 3: C-BO] |
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No one can hang, I'm the downest on this earth, |
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No regrets, no sorrows, no remorse when I burst, |
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I hang on the side of your task force an the waist of yo neighborhood |
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Killaz, |
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Might catch me up under the seat, or ridin in the lap of yo dope dealaz, |
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I'm known to robbin banks, jewlery stores, an 7-11's, |
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Some use me for protection, an some use me for 1-8-7's, |
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It's best to call the police if you think you see me comin, |
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But whatever you don't run cuz you might tempt me to start gunnin, |
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I kill at will, quick to spill guts when I bust, |
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An when a habit drops, you mutha fuckaz can't touch, |
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Mo deadlier than a pitbull, when you locked up in my sight, |
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So stay up outta my path, an beware because I bite. |
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[chorus] |
