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