[Verse 1: ScHoolboy Q]
The world don't love us and the hood be hating
Destroy the minds of the kids we raising
Babies having and killing babies
The cops patrol daily when they made me
This lil nigga drive Mercedes, huh
They wanna take my fingerprint even though my license be straight
They think it's fake, my name regis-straight
They want me riled up and catch a case
Said I resisted to a heavyweight
And said I attacked 'em when I get shattered face
Bruh I'm just tryna feed my daughter eggs
Working late at 12 hour rate
Nigga gotta escape
I'm shakin' this place, no matter how many damn L's I take
Or F's I get, we strive for excellence
The cops supposed to protect the streets, but who protecting us from them?
My pen got me above the rim
Black creative mind jumping out the gym
Life flashed cause your Dayton don't spin
Hands up, 'fore they take one out again
[Chorus]
Hey now, don't shoot
Hands up, don't shoot
Too drunk, don't shoot
Headshot, don't shoot
What you really know about the people?
You don't really know about the people
You don't even know what make the pain go away
No, you don't really understand the peaceful
You can't even figure how to see folk
Can you even feel what we say?
[Verse 2: Too $hort]
You motherfuckers want some
Everywhere I go they banging
Where you from? What you claimin'?
Bitch ass nigga, you wish you could
Throw your set up in the air and bang your hood
You from the ghetto, they don't know you on my turf
Bang right now, get your bitch ass murked
In the club turning up, better not throw it up
Gang politics bout to get you fucked up
Always twistin' up your fingers
Lil homie right behind you, he a real gang banger
No tattoo tears but he a hitter
You just a tough motherfucker on Twitter
Don't get caught up in the crossfire, nigga
You throwin' signs up, he got his hand on the trigger
You on your phone 'bout to lose your life to a shooter
Get killed for some shit that you typed on a computer, bitch!
[Chorus]
Hey now, don't shoot
Hands up, don't shoot
Too drunk, don't shot
Headshot, don't shoot
What you really know about the people?
You don't really know about the people
You don't even know what make the pain go away
No, you don't really understand the peaceful
You can't even figure how to see folk
Can you even feel what we say?
[Verse 3: Joyner Lucas]
Joyner, yeah, yeah, hol' up, hol' up
Look, I used to wake up in the morning, had to work and catch the bus (Joyner)
Just me and my sister, no one sitting next to us (Next)
I was dropping music but I couldn't catch a buzz
Used to do it cause I need it now I do it just because
This is my director's cut, Tarantino (Woah)
I need you to point me to the plug, Al Pacino (Hey)
I don't trust you suckers with your hobbies, that ain't me, though (That ain't me, though)
Bunch of undercovers, y'all some Bobby Valentino
This that East Coast, this that heat though, this that kilo
This that Migos, Bad and Boujee shit, that freak show
This that peep hole, I see through y'all, this that repo
Take your bitch and play some Keno
I'm a hero, Captain Save-A-Hoe in Speedos
I speed through y'all, this that speed boat, I found Nemo
Hope if they shoot me they ready to kill
They doing life and they ready to squeal
Bitch I'm the devil, you're not on my level
And you 'bout to find out if heaven is real
I know y'all dead shot got roaming the plastic
Get left in the grass when I run through your field
What they gone do, put them heaters on you
Niggas screaming "Don't shoot" when we all in your grill
(Joyner, Joyner, yeah)
[Chorus]
Hey now, don't shoot
Hands up, don't shoot
Too drunk, don't shot
Headshot, don't shoot
What you really know about the people?
You don't really know about the people
You don't even know what make the pain go away
No, you don't really understand the peaceful
You can't even figure how to see folk
Can you even feel what we say?
READ MORE ABOUT TOO $HORT
