Little Weapon (feat. Bishop G & Nikki Jean)

Now little Terry got a gun he got from the store

He bought it with the money he got from his chores

He robbed a candy shop, told her "Lay down on the floor

Put the cookies in the bag, take the pennies out the drawer"

Lil' Khalil got a gun he got from the rebels

To kill the infidels and American devils

A bomb on his waist, a mask on his face

Prays five times a day and listens to heavy metal

Little Alex got a gun he took from his dad

That he snuck in the school in his black book bag

His black nail polish, black boots and black hair

He gon' blow away the bully that just pushed his ass

(Pushed his ass, pushed his ass, pushed his ass)

(Pushed his ass, pushed his ass)

I killed another man today

Shot him in his back as he ran away

Then I blew up his hut with a hand grenade

Cut his wife throat as she put her hands to pray

Just five more dogs, then we can get a soccer ball

That's what my commander say

How old?

Well, I'm like ten, eleven

Been fighting since I was like six, or seven

Now I don't know much about where I'm from

(Ooh-hey)

But I know I strike fear everywhere I come

(Ooh, hey-yeah)

Government want me dead, so I wear my gun

(Ooh-hey)

I really want the rocket launcher but I'm still too young

(Ooh, hey-yeah)

This candy give me courage not to fear no one

(Ooh-hey)

To feel no pain and hear no tongue

(Ooh, hey-yeah)

So I hear no screams and I shed no tear

(Ooh-hey)

If I'm in your dreams then your end is near, it's me

(Ooh, hey-yeah)

Little weapon, little weapon, little weapon, we're calling you

There's a war

If the guns are just too tall for you

We'll find you something small to use

Little weapon, little weapon, little weapon

We need you now, pow

(Astaghfirullah)

(Astaghfirullah)

(Astaghfirullah)

(Astaghfirullah)

(Astaghfirullah)

Now here comes the march of the boy brigade

A macabre parade of the toys he made

In shemaghs and shades, who look half his age

About half the size of the flags they wave

And camouflage suits made to fit youths

'Cause the ones off the dead soldiers hang a little loose

Where AK-47s that they shooting into heaven

Like they tryna kill a Jetson that struggles little recruits

Cute, smileless, heartless, violent

(Ooh-hey)

Childhood destroyed, devoid of all childish

(Ooh, hey-yeah)

Ways, can't write their own names

(Ooh-hey)

Or read the words that's on their own graves

(Ooh, hey-yeah)

Think you gangsta, popped a few rounds?

(Ooh-hey)

These kids'll come through and murder a whole town

(Ooh, hey-yeah)

Then sit back and smoke and watch it burn down

(Ooh-hey)

The grave gets deeper the further we go down

(Ooh, hey-yeah)

Little weapon, little weapon, little weapon, we're calling you

There's a war

If the guns are just too tall for you

We'll find you something small to use

Little weapon, little weapon, little weapon

We need you now, pow

Imagine if I had to console

The families of those slain I slayed on game consoles

I aim my hole, right trigger to squeeze

Press up and Y, one less **** breathe

B for the bombs, press pause for your moms

Make the room silent, she don't approve of violent

Games; she leave, resume activity

Start in blue heart, subpar sharp wizardry

On next part, I insert code

To sweeten up the little person's murder workload

I tell him he work for CIA with A

A operative, I operate this game all day

I hold the controller connected to the soldier

With weapons on his shoulder, he's only seconds older than me

We playful but serious

Now keep that on mind for online experience

Little weapon, little weapon, little weapon, we're calling you

(Huh, huh, huh)

There's a war

If the guns are just too tall for you

We'll find you something small to use

Little weapon, little weapon, little weapon

We need you now

Little weapon, little weapon, little weapon, we're calling you

There's a war

If the guns are just too tall for you

We'll find you something small to use

Little weapon, little weapon, little weapon

We need you now, pow