Lyrics Language: English Song writer/composer(s): Christopher Martin, Joseph Cartagena, Jamal Grinnage, Keith Elam, Eric Murry
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Gang StarrWho Got Gunz Lyrics:
Yeah, uh, Gang Starr
Crack Man, Crack Man, M O P, uh, BX, Brooknam, come on
Livin' legends, make a note of it
Yeah, uh, yo, uh
I got seven Mac 11s, about eight 38
Nine nines, Mac 10s
Man this shit never end
Even if the apple won't spin
I reach in my back pocket and blast you with his twin
Niggaz yellin' out the window, Joe's, at it again
But this bastard's got lawyers, keep him outta the pen
I mean, feds wanna knock me just 'cuz I'm cocky
An arrogant fuck, wave Hi when they watch me
Can't stop me every time, official
Better find my residuals or this nine gon' lift you
He was a fine individual what the papers scripted
Had him on the front page in his Graduation pictures
And they probably never hit you if you brought your glock
Me and my gat like, Wilson, we all we got
We walk the scorchin' blocks with the hawk on top
Even if the old ladies love to call the cops
I got guns
You got, he got, they got
M, got, O, got, P, my nigga we got guns
Big ones, extra large heat
Humongous shit that won't fit up under your car seat
Pop in a heart beat
Keep the cannon in my reach
Lay you flat on your back like you was tannin' on the beach
We keep them damn thangs full of hollows
And I'm from Christopher, bitch, bang with the Wallace
Fit raw this nigga, you ain't loco
You're buttocks big, boy, your heart pumps Sunoco
Brownsville deep in my genes
I show you bad boy for real, keep thinkin' shit is Peaches and Cream
We'll run you down, M O Ps, hunt ya down
Gun ya down, guns sing like blaow
Raise up cock pot, my biscuit for my nigga, O G had quick shit
We got guns
We got, we got, they got guns
Crazy ill man, rowdy
I got it locked
Bringin' the noise, bringin' the funk, pop the lock
But only if you feel this shit
We got, we got, they got guns
Crazy ill man, rowdy
I got it locked
Bringin' the noise, bringin' the funk
Nowadays my priorities ain't based on fun
I'm tryna cop some more property and in case of them guns
Sick society's got Guru protectin' his fam
Fuck Prudential, I got my own protection plan
Respect me man, I'm on a mission so to speak
You're too dumb to play your position so unique
I'll trade your meat fatty, vacate the streets
Gang Starr, First Fam and TS, we way deep
And even if you had a thought to move on us
Our fire power will devour, bitch you'll chew on dust
Slow death, no rep, hollows have you gaspin'
You rich just for you, he got a lavish casket
Call us savage bastards usin' all means necessary
It's only customary
It's you we got to bury
We'll dead your homo thug network
Head shots make your neck jerk
My lock's been on the roof, he's an expert
Who got a problem? It's already been established
I'll come through your town with a pound like a savage
Still throwin' down on the grounds that I'm average
Can I hear for a gangster? Yeah, nigga
It's always some shit but it's always a clip
To re-route your doubts and see what you about
Your homeboy's a snitch and your bossman's a bitch
We takin' over these bricks, is that so?
Doin' underhanded shit, I'll shoot you in your abdomen
You fraud, you're movin' like a broad with this faggot shit
And you deserve a hole
In the back of your motherfuckin' head
The doctor can't fix on the concrete
We palm heat like soldiers
Spit one in your whip and flip your shit over
Keep in mind whatever the nine spit
It's only as good as the nigga behind it bitch
We got guns
The lyrics on the most recent version are sanctioned by the composer, or owner of the rights to the lyrics, however, there may be lyrics that are more complete on the prior version(s) that have been submitted by a contributor to mp3lyrics.org
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