Gang Starr, M.O.P., Fat Joe - Who Got Gunz lyrics
Fat Joe [Joseph Antonio Cartagena] The Bronx, New York City, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Gang Starr, M.O.P., Fat Joe - Who Got Gunz lyrics]
Gang Starr crack Man, Crack Man, MOP
BX brooknam, haha come on
Living legends, ya heard me
Make a note of that yeah uh yo uh (SHOOOOOU)
I got seven Mac 11's, about eight 38's
Nine 9's, Mac 10's man this shit never end
Even if the apple won't spin
I reach in my back pocket and
Blast you with this twin
Niggas yelling 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 cause 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 gonna lift you he was a fine individual
What the papers scriptured
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 scorching blocks with
The hawk on cock
Even if the old ladies love to call the cops
I got guns
You got, he got, they got
M dot, O dot, 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 tanning on the beach
We keep them thang thangs full of hollows
And I'm from Christopher bitch
Bang with the Wallace
Fitzroy 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 thinking shit is Peaches and Cream
We'll run you down, MO-Ps hunt ya down
Gun ya down, guns sing like Bilal
Raise up cock pon my biscuit
For my nigga OG headquizkik we got guns
You got, we got, they got guns
Crazy ill, mad rowdy i gots it locked
Bringing the noise, bringing the funk
Pop the Glock but only if you feel this shit
You got, we got, they got guns
Crazy ill, mad rowdy i gots it locked
Bringing the noise, bringing the funk
You know that your through, done, finished
Nowadays my priorities ain't based on fun
I'm trying to cop some more property
And a case of them guns
Sick society's got Guru protecting 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 trey 8 your meat
Faggot 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 breath
Hollows have you gasping
You rich just for you, he got a lavish casket
Call us savage bastards using
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 marksman 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 throwing down on the
Grounds that I'm average
Can I hear it 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
Boss man's a bitch
We taking over these bricks
Doing underhanded shit
I'll shoot you in your abdomen you fraud
You're moving like a broad
With this faggot shit and you deserve a hole
In the back of your motherfucking
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
BX brooknam, haha come on
Living legends, ya heard me
Make a note of that yeah uh yo uh (SHOOOOOU)
I got seven Mac 11's, about eight 38's
Nine 9's, Mac 10's man this shit never end
Even if the apple won't spin
I reach in my back pocket and
Blast you with this twin
Niggas yelling 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 cause 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 gonna lift you he was a fine individual
What the papers scriptured
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 scorching blocks with
The hawk on cock
Even if the old ladies love to call the cops
I got guns
You got, he got, they got
M dot, O dot, 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 tanning on the beach
We keep them thang thangs full of hollows
And I'm from Christopher bitch
Bang with the Wallace
Fitzroy 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 thinking shit is Peaches and Cream
We'll run you down, MO-Ps hunt ya down
Gun ya down, guns sing like Bilal
Raise up cock pon my biscuit
For my nigga OG headquizkik we got guns
You got, we got, they got guns
Crazy ill, mad rowdy i gots it locked
Bringing the noise, bringing the funk
Pop the Glock but only if you feel this shit
You got, we got, they got guns
Crazy ill, mad rowdy i gots it locked
Bringing the noise, bringing the funk
You know that your through, done, finished
Nowadays my priorities ain't based on fun
I'm trying to cop some more property
And a case of them guns
Sick society's got Guru protecting 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 trey 8 your meat
Faggot 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 breath
Hollows have you gasping
You rich just for you, he got a lavish casket
Call us savage bastards using
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 marksman 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 throwing down on the
Grounds that I'm average
Can I hear it 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
Boss man's a bitch
We taking over these bricks
Doing underhanded shit
I'll shoot you in your abdomen you fraud
You're moving like a broad
With this faggot shit and you deserve a hole
In the back of your motherfucking
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