Paco's Kid Lyrics

[Intro: Buddha Monk]
Yo, it's the B, the U, the D
The D, the H, the A
And we go by the unforgetable name
The Duck Lo Production coming in your area
Bring it to your ass live, and direct, huh

[Chorus x2: Buddha Monk]
Paco's kid, man, paco's king, whoa
Paco's kid, bang bang...

[Buddha Monk:]
I think that it's best you profane you crew
From this murderous blood spills and move when the Buddha's I'll
f**k the rap shit, I spit with clips
Take a pick, whether day or night, I'm good with hits
And you could call your out of niggas, I'm Brooklyn bound, nigga
Make a hit with two clips and make it drip
My guns hold, are surely remarkable
Who got the eye on me, will die by me
Don't think on wanted man, that my shit ain't tight
I love a good gun fight, you wanna get it on, tonight, pa?
f**k, Daddy Warbucks, me and easy in the cut
Push the button one more time, you shit out of luck, f**k

[Chorus x2: w/ ad-libs]

I wet you up like you stuck in the rain, f**k ice
Murder numb on a chain, you want beef, no peeps
Just me coming with one of them things, that'll pop through
The driver door side of your range, I catch a cold
Every time I tuck in my chain, the rings got jealous
Cause the hoes wanna play with the chain
Cops looking for my face, so I switched my name
And the fiends stop coming on the block til I switched my cane
And I had to look different so I threw on the frames
Just like my gun hanging, out of a plane
Speak my name and the bullets'll rain
Who you know that rock more chains on they neck than a runaway slave
You softer than that cotton that they puff in them days
When I bust, duck, tuck in yo chain, you a nigga with cornrolls?
Then I put one in your braids, I got guns
That come out of the closet quicker than gays
f**k condoms, I'm looking for AIDS
Talking breezy, you can still feel the heat in the shade
I talk sour but it ain't lemonade
Ya'll niggas running like ya'll roaches and my gun is the Raid
Only time I bust shots in the air, if I got an enemy up in a plane
Don't hate the player, nigga, hate the game
Ain't no more driving, my niggas, cause we taking a plane
And if I do, I'm driving straight where I'm going, f**k switching the lane
Bang bang


Bang bang, it's heavy mental, for you jump into, offa instrumental
I gang bang my slang and initiate my beats
The off product out on the street
Make all my peeps eat, offa royalties and spoiled treats
Hoodies for you tees, with maxin', textin', wreckin' your section, non-stop
I'm reppin', my BK connection, colabo
Don't hate the game, hate the players that got it all smashed, yo


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