CunninLynguists, Sheisty Khrist - Gun lyrics

"No one held a gun", what you lying for?
Then tell me how somebody got left lying cold
"Gun", heard the 45's let go
Next week somebody's riding slow
"Gun", what you lying for?
Then tell me how somebody got left lying cold
"Gun", somebody that you or I must know
And next week somebody's riding slow
"No one held a gun"

Check it out, uh
It's hard to get 'em to freeze
A hundred-twenty-three degrees and the breeze
Is full of glass particles that
Blast hard at you
Show us your hands and show us the plans
The weapon's biological so show us the cans
We got a tip from
Snitches for ballistic positions
Don't wanna listen? We putting these
Missile tips in ya kitchen
We got the ether for Haditha
The sutures for Fallujah
State police force suit's and boots
Is in ya future won't loosen the nooses
Put ya dick in the ground
Chief of police is tired of all
This Roving and Dicking around
Goose chasing like ridiculous clowns
But the American public's lustin an
Evil puppet so fuck it
He says he has a wallet, I say he has a gun
Reagan gave him both back in 1981
Now we back with a badge just
To grab all the funds
Buckin forty-one at you and your sons, yeah

"No one held a gun", what you lying for?
Then tell me how somebody got left lying cold
"Gun", heard the 45's let go
Next week somebody's riding slow
"Gun", what you lying for?
Then tell me how somebody got left lying cold
"Gun", somebody that you or I must know
And next week somebody's riding slow
"No one held a gun"

Yeah, they got
The eye of Jesus sittin on the skies of Giza
They lie and freeze us in our time of leisure
Hermapha, a Bush and Dick
On every Condoleezza
Nigga, y'all eye the skeezers
I eye the Caesars, haha
And I ain't talk bout the
Place you play Blackjack
But CIA headquarters where they
Make the crack at
The CIA headquarters where they
Make the gats at
The real School of Rock crack
Fuck that cracker Jack Black
Police force got Tenacious D
Pull you over for your plates
Place an eighth of C
Then, that eighth of C will have
You placed on the sea
Alcatraz or Guantanamo, aching to see
They they lock you up in a
Cell with no lights in it
Feed a nigga white bread with
No fucking life in it no toilet bowl
Just a hole so you can wipe in it
A tormented soul till you grow
Old and ripe in it
Play your hand till the right suit fold
Bin Laden got Bush in a knight suit mode
Most niggas that I know like Nike swoosh gold
Wipin twenty-inch vogues on a white coupe Old
Diallo, forty-one shots, nineteen hit's
In a dark hallway make the light seem lit
I guess they saw a rapist
On white cream tit's
Don't pull your wallet out nigga, run
These motherfuckers got guns