“HEADSHOT” Lyrics by Hitta J3 is a latest English song in the voice of Hitta J3. Its music too is composed by singer while brand new “HEADSHOT” song lyrics are also written by Hitta J3. This is a popular song among the people of United States of America.
The song “HEADSHOT” by Hitta J3 is a raw and intense track that talks about street life, violence, and survival. Hitta J3 delivers hard-hitting lines about staying ready, keeping a gun close, and not trusting easily. He calls out fake rappers, reflects on fallen friends, and warns enemies that real consequences come with the lifestyle. It’s gritty, aggressive, and full of real-life warzone energy from the West Coast to New York.
HEADSHOT Lyrics
Woke up this morning
You got yourself, yourself, yourself
Living in west side, it get loud behind enemy lines
Seeing too many n!ggas die
I got mine, hope you (Got yourself a gun)
You steady bugging, hope you (Got yourself a gun)
You want beef, hope you (Got yourself a gun)
Fuk that
How this mcap is deeper than tde, don’t leave after peace
Fuk rap, we going to leave it in the street
Hope you (Got yourself a gun)
Like a kid, boy, grip on their neck
Patiently waiting for arrivers of lax
Take all your gold off, leave them with a missing tooth
We can do the shooting range or go and hit the booth
After g-nx, the industry is still overlooked
Top of heads off in new york, I’m benny the butcher
Fully with red dots like hobbies
Muddy vehicles, punk fiction, I’m beneath the car clean
What the fuk’s happening
Oh, man
Oh, man, I shot marvin in the face
Why the fuk did you do that
I didn’t mean to do it as an accident
Oh, man, I see some crazy ass s*it in my time
But just chill out, man
I told you it was an accident
He probably went over a bump or something
Hey, the car ain’t hit no motherfuking bump
Veterans
Still ain’t hanging my boots yet
Ain’t talking i.g. verifying for a blue check
Hit it a real crash out, they knew that
And a pair of timbo, still roostep
This ain’t raising canan, won’t be surviving this
Hit him with a headshot, that ain’t got to tell me s*it
Get 50 on the phone, you going to need a mini man
Leave a red dot on his head like an indian
Better hold your gun tight, jump in the pool far from a real gunfight
Love from new york, how this bich is still come around
I’m from b0mbton, they laying with a gun in town
Maybe we’re alike
I’m the type to pick my gun up before I touch the mic
Know some real shooters, you n!ggas ain’t nothing like
Trapped, acting like a killer don’t make you one
My bag, don’t even trust a driver, I’m going to have them crash
Don’t come back from the dead, they got them too many acting classes
Like, came with those dog, ain’t the type of awful kid
Let me catch you outside, I’m going to do them like marvin did
Make n!ggas call a truce
Came back from the dead, but that head ain’t bulletproof
Now, is the real king of new york, how is you, friend
Mentioning pop smoke like you going to do something
Looking for some kudos, sending false alarms
Hurt the rules, don’t even do those
Living in west side, they get loud behind enemy lines
See too many n!ggas die
I got mine, hope you (Got yourself a gun)
You steady bugging, hope you (Got yourself a gun)
You want beef, hope you got your (Got yourself a gun)
Got yourself a gun
Fuk, the hottest mcap is deeper than tde
Don’t leave, I’m going to p
Fuk rap, we going to leave it in the street
Hope you (Got yourself a gun)
I’m trying to pull over to the side
Right around here, why we
You got paper
What
I’m not going to put you in my time, n!gga
Right here
What’s popping, car, you
I ain’t n!gga
You’re clean now
Letting the guns go
Letting the guns go
Like, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
I know real geisha’s in new york
Free scrap
Hit a man like a gun store, way I keep strapped
Tell fifth, get you one
Hit him with a dillinger
He not worth the biggest one
Whoa, whoa, whoa
Like a prison yard, even tori got a buck 50
Loves from new york come to la to get in touch with me
Like, no need to enter the booth
Do your homework, they going to tell you hit-a-man the truth
Whoa
Let a n!gga wrap your city wearing rainbow hair
If a n!gga say a word to the pigs, you out of here
Whoa, this ain’t what you want, I’m telling you
Ain’t been no shooters around since cash and shot, he went federal
Ain’t no advertising guns, I’m going to let it off on them
My son, blood out and let my crips walk on them
Bring ks to the war, they mistaked it for a uzi
South central and boys in the hood, n!gga’s favorite movie
Even with the west coast, make rappers disappear
One room stop here in another man’s career
Pull up to parties, they like how the piru’s got in here
N!ggas think they knocks, their belly into their neck, split ear to ear
Show them real shotta, got to introduce them to a blood clot
Sniper on the roof, only one shot
The corpse left the east for the west, got a love pot
Get caught for joey murder, I’ll be smiling in my mug shot
Everybody got guns, but not the ones my thugs got
Go ahead and keep mentioning doc, making a crimson blood type
Prison style, poker his ass to death, not worth a gunshot
You could be the superstar and be the one to drum rock
N!ggas
Hit ’em, man
Real motherfuking p
Nobody safe
Hit ’em, man
Since you like to fuk with diddy, you the next punk
Come to cali for fresh air and get your chest punk
Everybody shooters on the internet
Some joey out and leave blood on my timberlands
Play the fool, the only time you’ve seen a n!gga kill a man
They going to make another door slide on this minivan
Leave him in the bloody pelly coat
I’m fed with a chip, too
Btch, who kills his own man trying to get juice
Long live pop smoke and n!ggas trying to get proof
Nobody’s safe unless they’re with the game
Spit flame
Surgical the way we split brains
Really who
He won’t make it to another knicks game
Blackout
Trying to shine in la, turn your light off
Don’t got a record deal, can’t even be a tax write-off
Black hoodies, black gloves match the black pole
Die from a stomach wound, turn them to a absolutely badass
I know they should call rocky
Give them 100 shots, lost count on your autopsy
Mace
No, ain’t no real bad boys, look how it backfired
Life after death
Rest in peace biggie and black rob
Black mob
Certified gangsta
Come to my hood
Jim jones show cam’ron where the damu’s be
And come to my hood
A big homie don’t agree
Probably don’t make it home
Barking up the wrong trees where I’m from
N!ggas die over fake rap beef
Hit-a-man
I’m starting to think n!ggas on a press run or something
N!ggas must be trying to drop a new album or something
N!ggas
That old s*it ain’t do nothing
You know what I’m saying
We spice n!ggas up
N!ggas got to mention kendrick’s name to get some type of light
We know the truth
Members only
Yeah
Teejee dwayne
Hitta man
C-a-m-l
Illuminati all through your body
Man
Will it
Yeah
Yeah
Hundred rounds on the chop, n!gga
N!ggas get shot every day, b
You be alright, n!gga
You tough, right
Like khaled said, another one
I’m out, riko
You understand what I’m saying
I’ve been shot in the head, baby
My body different
I’m breathing different
You understand what I’m saying
The doctor said I wasn’t going to walk the same
You understand saying
I’m out
HEADSHOT Video
Hitta J3 Songs
HEADSHOT Lyrics Meaning
The song “HEADSHOT” by Hitta J3 is a gritty and intense track that delves into themes of street life, survival, and authenticity. Hitta J3 uses vivid imagery and raw language to paint a picture of the challenges and realities faced in his environment.
[Woke up this morning…]
Hitta J3 starts by emphasizing the importance of being prepared and vigilant in a dangerous environment. Living on the West Side, he highlights the constant threat of violence and the necessity of self-defense. The repetition of “Got yourself a gun” serves as a stark reminder of the need to be armed and ready in his world.
[Like a kid, boy, grip on their neck…]
He describes the aggressive nature of his surroundings, where taking what’s yours by force is commonplace. The mention of “shooting range” and “booth” contrasts the choices between violence and artistic expression. Referencing “Benny the Butcher” and “red dots” alludes to precision and lethality, while “muddy vehicles” and “punk fiction” evoke a gritty, chaotic atmosphere.
[What the fuk’s happening…]
This interlude captures a moment of panic and confusion after a violent act, possibly referencing a scene from the movie “Pulp Fiction.” It underscores the unpredictability and consequences of living a life steeped in violence.
[Veterans…]
Hitta J3 asserts his experience and resilience, stating he’s not ready to retire or seek validation through social media. He emphasizes his readiness for confrontation, referencing “headshots” and “red dots,” symbols of targeted aggression. The line “Leave a red dot on his head like an Indian” uses a controversial metaphor to describe marking a target.
[Better hold your gun tight…]
He warns others about the dangers of underestimating the seriousness of street conflicts. Expressing distrust even towards drivers, he highlights the pervasive paranoia and need for control. The mention of “acting classes” critiques those who pretend to be something they’re not, emphasizing authenticity.
[Make n!ggas call a truce…]
Hitta J3 challenges the idea of invincibility, stating that returning from the dead doesn’t make one bulletproof. He questions the legitimacy of others claiming titles like “King of New York,” suggesting that mere mentions of past figures like Pop Smoke don’t equate to action. He criticizes those seeking attention through false alarms and insincere gestures.
[Living in west side…]
Reiterating the dangers of his environment, he emphasizes the need for self-protection and readiness. He dismisses the music industry’s politics, choosing to settle disputes on the streets rather than through rap battles.
[I’m trying to pull over to the side…]
This segment portrays a tense interaction, possibly during a traffic stop or confrontation. The dialogue reflects the constant suspicion and readiness for conflict that permeates his daily life.
[Letting the guns go…]
He boasts about his preparedness and willingness to engage in violence if necessary. Referencing “Free scrap” and “Hit a man like a gun store” suggests a network of allies and an arsenal at his disposal. The mention of “Dillinger” alludes to a notorious gangster, reinforcing his tough persona.
[Like a prison yard…]
Drawing parallels between the streets and prison, he highlights the ever-present threat of violence. He criticizes those who betray their communities, stating that snitches are unwelcome. The line “Ain’t been no shooters around since cash and shot, he went federal” suggests a decline in genuine street enforcers.
[Ain’t no advertising guns…]
Hitta J3 emphasizes action over talk, stating he doesn’t need to flaunt weapons; he’ll use them when necessary. He mentions bringing “Ks to the war,” indicating heavy artillery, and references popular culture to illustrate the normalization of violence in his environment. The vivid imagery of “split ear to ear” and “sniper on the roof” paints a picture of calculated, lethal force.
[Hit ’em, man…]
He issues a direct threat, warning those who associate with figures like Diddy that they’re next in line. He criticizes internet “shooters,” implying that real action happens offline. The mention of “blood on my timberlands” symbolizes the tangible consequences of violence.([Beats, Rhymes and Lists][1])
[Play the fool…]
He mocks those who only experience violence through media, stating that real-life consequences are far more severe. The reference to “bloody pelly coat” and “split brains” emphasizes the brutal reality of his world. He warns that some won’t live to see another day, let alone attend events like a Knicks game.
[Blackout…]
Hitta J3 warns those trying to gain fame in Los Angeles that it’s a dangerous game. He criticizes those without record deals, implying they’re insignificant. The imagery of “black hoodies, black gloves” and “stomach wound” underscores the stealth and severity of street justice. He references iconic figures like Biggie and Black Rob, paying homage while highlighting the cyclical nature of violence in the industry.
[Hit-a-man…]
He suggests that some artists are using beefs as publicity stunts to promote new albums. He accuses them of name-dropping prominent figures like Kendrick Lamar to gain attention. Asserting his own authenticity, he emphasizes that true recognition comes from genuine talent and actions, not manufactured drama.
Throughout “HEADSHOT,” Hitta J3 delivers a raw and unfiltered narrative of his experiences and observations, challenging the authenticity of others while asserting his own credibility in the harsh realities of street life.
HEADSHOT Song Detail
| Song Title | HEADSHOT |
| Singer(s) | Hitta J3 |
| Musician(s) | Hitta J3 |
| Lyricist(s) | Hitta J3 |
| Language | English |
FAQs
Q. Who has sung HEADSHOT song?
A. HEADSHOT song is sung by Hitta J3.
Q. Who wrote HEADSHOT lyrics?
A. HEADSHOT lyrics are penned by Hitta J3.
Q. Who has given the music of HEADSHOT song?
A. HEADSHOT music is composed and produced by Hitta J3.
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