You got, he got, they got
We'll dead your homo thug network
Even if the old ladies love to call the cops
Can I hear for a gangster? Yeah, nigga
Spit one in your whip and flip your shit over
Raise up cock pot, my biscuit for my nigga, O G had quick shit
You're too dumb to play your position so unique
In the back of your motherfuckin' head
Gang Starr, First Fam and TS, we way deep
And they probably never hit you if you brought your glock
Crazy ill man, rowdy
Slow death, no rep, hollows have you gaspin'
Who got a problem? It's already been established
Man this shit never end
Head shots make your neck jerk
You're buttocks big, boy, your heart pumps Sunoco
Big ones, extra large heat
We takin' over these bricks, is that so?
Our fire power will devour, bitch you'll chew on dust
Crazy ill man, rowdy
I show you bad boy for real, keep thinkin' shit is Peaches and Cream
I'll trade your meat fatty, vacate the streets
Better find my residuals or this nine gon' lift you
To re-route your doubts and see what you about
Me and my gat like, Wilson, we all we got
Brownsville deep in my genes
Had him on the front page in his Graduation pictures
And you deserve a hole
It's only as good as the nigga behind it bitch
Nowadays my priorities ain't based on fun
Fuck Prudential, I got my own protection plan
I reach in my back pocket and blast you with his twin
Livin' legends, make a note of it
We palm heat like soldiers
We got, we got, they got guns
We keep them damn thangs full of hollows
We got guns
Keep in mind whatever the nine spit
I got seven Mac 11s, about eight 38
M, got, O, got, P, my nigga we got guns
Yeah, uh, yo, uh
You rich just for you, he got a lavish casket
Niggaz yellin' out the window, Joe's, at it again
Call us savage bastards usin' all means necessary
Bringin' the noise, bringin' the funk
Gun ya down, guns sing like blaow
Even if the apple won't spin
Bringin' the noise, bringin' the funk, pop the lock
But this bastard's got lawyers, keep him outta the pen
We walk the scorchin' blocks with the hawk on top
It's only customary
Fit raw this nigga, you ain't loco
Humongous shit that won't fit up under your car seat
Doin' underhanded shit, I'll shoot you in your abdomen
I got it locked
And even if you had a thought to move on us
Sick society's got Guru protectin' his fam
It's you we got to bury
He was a fine individual what the papers scripted
I got guns
I'll come through your town with a pound like a savage
I mean, feds wanna knock me just 'cuz I'm cocky
Respect me man, I'm on a mission so to speak
Can't stop me every time, official
It's always some shit but it's always a clip
We'll run you down, M O Ps, hunt ya down
I got it locked
I'm tryna cop some more property and in case of them guns
My lock's been on the roof, he's an expert
An arrogant fuck, wave Hi when they watch me
But only if you feel this shit
Your homeboy's a snitch and your bossman's a bitch
Pop in a heart beat
The doctor can't fix on the concrete
You fraud, you're movin' like a broad with this faggot shit
And I'm from Christopher, bitch, bang with the Wallace
Still throwin' down on the grounds that I'm average
Nine nines, Mac 10s
Lay you flat on your back like you was tannin' on the beach
We got, we got, they got guns
Keep the cannon in my reach
