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(feat. Mop)

Shots ran down, if you ain't got a gun
Then you don't wann' non, then that a** betta (Run!)
(Yuh!) You can git hit in the middle of this s**t (Owh)
Bullets don't have no eyes when them motherfuckers come (Yeaahh)
Letcha guns go (Bang!), Letcha guns go (Bang!)
Squeeze the trigga n***a, do the damn thang
Letcha guns go (Bang!), Letcha guns go (Bang!)
Anybody can git it, dat's all I'm sayin'

[Verse 1: Young Buck]
Two Fo'-Five's, tattood on my side
You'll die n***a, 'fore I lose my pride
I don't hide n***a, this ain't a bullet-proof ride
I be out chere, 'fore any n***a wanna try
Ain't a vest that they make, that can take a choppa
A unsolved mystery if it's done propa
Patna, look what happened to Jimmy Hoffer
They still ain't found his a**, so who shot 'em? (Yeaahh!)
A. K's - I got 'em, I mean alot of 'em
I got it lookin' like +Fort Knox+ in this b***h
A. 40 Cal glock shoot 32 shots (Buck-buck!)
Can't tell me I ain't ready to git in some s**t
Make a lane fo' me, homie git out the way
Been outta control and I ain't got no brakes
Like a 'g' would, I just do it fo' the hood
If I rob ya, then my whole block could


[Verse 2: Lil' Fame]
Yo I been fu***n' wit' these Brownville n****s fo' a long, long time (Yuh!)
We put it down fo' a long, long time (Yuh!)
Scufflin' these streets fo' a long, long time
And ain't too many fu***n' wit' mine
Now I been spittin' at you b*****s fo' a long, long time
Gittin' at you b*****s fo' a long, long time (Get em buck!)
Brownsville stat (n***a!), head-patrol (n***a!), anti-actional
Dat's how I do it y'all, dat's how I does it
Don't give a f**k (Brrraatt) if you Blood or Cuzzin
Keep ya ear tuned, n***a I be dancin' wit' Tha Grim Reaper
Stuck in this b***h, gittin' reefer (Fo'sho!)
Gangsta wit' it, wit' the face the
Face the boogy wit' the gangstas, gangsta boogy (C'monn!)
Every street n***a ain't a rappa
And every rappa ain't a street n***a
So holla at me (Haa!!)


[Verse 3: Billy Danze]
Don't b***h out now n***a, you see me comin' wit' the magnum
Heavy copper tops (Spit!), clear out ya block (Quick!)
M. O. P. Faggit we at it again wit' (G-you-Nit!!)
Look, roll up in ya truck and I'll pump somethang thru it
(Cash-Ville!) Buck said they love me
'Cause I'm side steppin' and grippin' my weapon when it's ugly
And y'all can't touch me, easy how you rub me
I'll show you the meanin' of what a True Thug mean (Yeaahh!)
Brooklyn, home to the black bags and the white sheets
It's where we be position n****s of they feet
It's rugged in the street (Fo'sho!)
We learn to, kick off a clip and open ya s**t at the door, so
No sudden moves, don't do it
You'll git foul chopped in a bag and stuffed in a Buick (Yeaahh!)
The moral of the story is 'We Get To It'
Where the G's roll, and dude I never walk alone (Haa!)


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