M.o.p. - Guns Go Bang lyrics

[Chorus] 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 sh** (Owh) Bullets don't have no eyes when them motherf**ers 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 sh** 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 [Chorus] [Verse 2: Lil' Fame] Yo I been f**in' wit' these Brownville n***as 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 f**in' wit' mine Now I been spittin' at you b**hes fo' a long, long time Gittin' at you b**hes fo' a long, long time (GET EM BUCK!) Brownsville stat (ni**a!), head-patrol (ni**a!), anti-actional Dat's how I do it y'all, dat's how I does it Don't give a f** (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!!) [Chorus] [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. f*ggit we at it again wit' (G-U-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***as of they feet It's rugged in the street (FO'SHO!) We learn to, kick off a clip and open ya sh** 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!) [Chorus]