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​357

This song is by C-Bo and appears on the album Til My Casket Drops (1998).

(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?

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 every time 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,
'Cause 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,
'Cause if you down I'm down, fool, it ain't no half-steppin,
I'm a lethal 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.

(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 'cause 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.