Story Behind The Song

Angry at the world and other M.C's

Song Description

A M.C's question of another M.C. The questions is do you got guns? Cause you are gonna need 'em

Lyrics

Got guns
Verse 1

Gansta?s make the world go round, while bitches lives in it
Big shark in little ponds, you fishes swim in it
The licks you just learning, playa?s like me been in it
I rep the natty, so you best believe the sin?s in it
If you girls in my car, it?s some skins in it
If dre rolling wit me, it?s some twins in it
If her chin?s kinda sticky, bet my dick did it
She fell in love talking hard, bitch you need to quit it
You need to check that visa card, bitch I?m pimp wit it
I wrote books on the game, you just a temp in it
Only those who feel my pain , is those who dealt wit it
Love to the cell blocks, I?m heartfelt wit it
So deep in the game, don?t remember the beginning
Nickname clutch, game 7 , 9th inning
You came wit a crew now half them bitches quitting
Show they true colors, when gats get the spitting

HOOK
If you got guns then bring em,
You the type of nigga that I know is gone need em
Spot that bitch in the crowd, know I?m gone bleed?em
Leave on the street, let the ambulance treat?em?

Verse 2
Lyrically I?m on top nickname me north pole
I live tales from the hood, you watching em unfold
Never had a pot of gold, my pot had a hole
Evading the potholes looking for pot to roll
Am I losing control, feel like I?m out in the cold
Keep heat close to my hold, spark?em like charcoal
Until I have so much dough, I got my own cashier
The diapers on my baby?s ass, made of cashmere
I?m causing a mob scene, clean like chlorine
You ain?t gangsta, you prom queen, are you Dave or Darlene
I promised I would redeem the soul and self esteem
Of homies who O?d ed, cocaine & thorazine
From my corn rolled homies, down to dreadlocks
For my kill em all cousin, selling weed in detox
My nigga D brooks, blow you out the Reeboks
Ya?ll can have the chicken?s, give me the peacocks

Hook
If you got guns then bring em,
You the type of nigga that I know is gone need em
Spot that bitch in the crowd, know I?m gone bleed?em
Leave on the street, let the ambulance treat?em?



Ovations bitch, Don?t fuck with us be realistic
Rough neck niggas, with some violent characteristics
Animalistic, smart enough to beat ballistics
Revolvers to the head, no casings for forensics
Only 2 things move the world, violence and economics
You fucking wit killers, rearrange your anatomics
It?s rather ironic, even the witnesses vomit
Witness the death of a gangsta, who was more like a comic
Now my crew keep a arsenal, called the alphabet
Ak?s to z techs, grenades, banana clips
I suggest you leave now, unless you dying tonight
If you fucking wit my money, then you dying upon sight
Hear ye hear ye come one, come all
A lesson on how to ball, big bank gone take small
If you got guns, you best to shine em up
Coming from the natty, you know we light em?up