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    [ VERSE 1: Grand Daddy IU ]

    Bo! Bo! Bo! gimme all your dough, boy, it's like that

    You ain't got a gun, so how the hell you gonna fight back?

    You got to be out your mind

    I put you in the firing line and hit you off with the nine

    And bounce with the 40oz. off on a mission

    Itchin to send a nigga to the mortician

    Leavin a bloody-ass mess, you best be blessed

    Anything test, pick up lead to the chest

    For those who got questions ( *gunshot* ) there's your answer

    Smoked so many niggaz, my gun got cancer

    Sendin heads spinnin like spokes when I smoke folks

    You want a head-up? Yo kid, you got jokes

    Kill all the crap and knock it off

    Unless you got a S on your chest I suggest you break north

    Cause the blood flow's thick when the slug goes

    Straight through your back from the .38 snub nose

    Think you some type of thug or a mugger

    Because you got a head full of gas and a Louisville slugger

    Well, I got somethin more fat, it's called a gat

    And you can't beat that with a baseball bat

    So take your corny ass home

    Before I get vexed and put the Tec to your dome

    Now what's up, nigga

    [ CHORUS ]

    You got your hands, we gots the gats

    You got your hands, we gots the gats

    You got your hands, we gots the gats

    And while you punks shootin joints, boy, the crew bust caps

    [ VERSE 2: Grand Daddy IU ]

    Yo, here I go again, rollin with a fat Mac-10

    And my nutsack's swinging dead smack on your chin

    I shoot to win, breakin all laws in your area

    Causin hysteria, pause or I bury ya

    Punk, that's how it goes, I ain't tradin no blows

    I cop the glock and blow the snot out your nose

    You choose to scrap, I'm movin back

    Your hands can't bruise the mack

    Who use the gat, so fuck that

    Call the police, boy, I got a nine mill' piece

    Loaded, cocked and aimed at your grill piece

    You say you're good with your fists, so swing at this

    My clips got 16 shots and don't miss

    So get strong, bring it on, nigga, yeah set it

    Claim you got a knuckle game, boy, you get deaded

    To hell with swingin a right try to fight

    I ain't throwin love taps, I bust caps, aight?

    Yeah, so drop your dukes or get hit up

    You get lit up, did up, can't get up so get your shit up

    I'm firm, my gun bust off like sperm

    Plus my hobby and job is buckin niggaz full-term

    So yo, you better slide off the scene

    Cause all you got is 52 blocks, I got a M-16

    Punk

    [ CHORUS ]

    [ VERSE 3: Grand Daddy IU ]

    Lick a shot, lick a shot and another dead cop

    When the cop said stop, so I made his head pop

    Pulled the trigger, nigga didn't know who I am

    Bam-blam, now his ass in a jam

    Tryin to get slick was a bad pick

    Brothers get had quick, the Steady Flow niggaz is mad thick

    Suckers I run through easy as 1-2

    I don't know kung-fu but I bet you my gun do

    And that's the way it's goin down, word to James Brown

    Save the games, clown before your back hit the ground

    Cause any fool who try to face the black guy

    Wounds I inflict need more than peroxide

    I ain't just givin you a scar

    When I drop bombs your own moms won't even know who you are

    So how you feel about that, you 'bout to get jacked

    You got your hands, my man, I got the gat

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