[Intro: Ludacris]
\nDTP we got them guns that go
\n*Gunshots*
\n
\n[Verse 1: I-20]
\nYea I'm all about that pistol player, cold blooded killer
\nNiggas recognize my name, I dub the young dealer
\nYou better tell ya man that with the gages I'm nice
\nIll shoot up y'all white shirts until you all look like dice
\nBut I'm through with all the talking time to show all you niggas
\nI 2-0, I'm like J-Lo, blowing through niggas (damn!)
\nDTP we ain't playing if you try to get our pay
\nAnd them A.K's get to spraying like
\nBottom line that mean I'm bout it, any nigga want it? Doubt it
\nBust you in the broad day, on a street that's fully crowded
\nYou’ll find a hole inside your chest, just for thinking it's rap
\nSo tell that pretty bitch thug we got some pretty big gats
\nChaka say I'm shot out, and I tend to agree
\nSo you should watch what you saying if it's intended for me
\nSo be careful what you starting, let my fingers do the walking
\nAnd that Uzi get to talking like *Gun Sound*
\n
\n[Verse 2: 2 Chainz]
\nHammers, jam 'em, snatch 'em, grab 'em
\nCan the an and fuck 'em, damn 'em
\nPress him, man him, scared him, teared him, kneed him up
\nBake him, take him, beat him up, I hate a hater, I eat him up
\nA-B-C-D-E-F shawty is you a G or what
\nNow it's just me and my nuts, that's all I got in this world
\nI'm pulling pistols out my stomach and throwing them bitches up like hurl
\nServing the club, head shot, scattered, covered, run, scram 'em
\nI'm 38, hot with a pearl handle
\nAnd I'm throwing techs like a NBA ref
\nI got, all gold guns like they came from Iraq
\nArtillery, could it be I got all kinds of these pistols
\nI point my gun at ya homeboy make ya own folks hit ya
\nAnd they ain't taking no more pictures, if you snap I'mma click
\nAnyway, plus I got bullets in the clip the size of Lil Fate
\nAnd I'm waving choppers like heli-copters
\nYou gonna need hella doctors, when the glok go *Gun Sound*
\n
\n[Verse 3: Chingy]
\nSay on the set bitch, better watch your lip those Tecs spit quick
\n20 over thurr, Tity over thurr, Luda over thurr, ain't no exit trick
\nUs you don't mess with, we got them guns like action flicks
\nReload with the next clip, I'm the wrong nigga to flex with bitch
\nCome on and test this, my gun I'm having sex with shit
\nPut a bullet in (in) shoot it out, got them long horns like Texas bitch
\nLook at my necklace, maybe hit a nigga disrespect this click
\nMy pistol grip sound like this...now what
\nWho want they day fucked, when I cock, unload the K, bust bust
\nY’all cowards play tough, and my peeps we come to spray stuff up
\nY’all lives made up, like ugly hoes with make-up bra
\nWe'll shoot you up then toss yo ass in the lake tough nut
\nMy wrist rocky like Sylvester Stallone
\nSo therefore you should invest, in a vest for your dome
\nCause I know you marks planning on getting me when I'm landing
\nPeace to Nick, but my cannon go *Gun Sound*
\n
\n[Verse 4: Ludacris]
\nFuck a medic, we gonna call yo ass a taxi cab
\nBleeding so hard you'll need a life size maxi pad
\nSo flip the script and tell your woman its your time of the month
\nAK-47 for the niggas who's really looking for heaven and a 9 for you chumps
\nGot killers in my squad and I'm the nicest one in my group
\nBut I got bananas for you niggas and I ain't talking bout fruit
\nI’ll peel your cap back with the black mac
\n'Til your back crack, cock the gat back like (clak clak clak)
\nSwallow a hollow make 'em digest with a 50 caliber
\nYour futures not looking so good, tomorrows not on your calendar
\nI do away with the amateurs, they breathing too long
\nIll leave 'em coughing like the sound effects you hear in this song
\nMy shotguns are cold and hard, but my desert is easy
\nAnd my triggers are always talking about some squeeze me, squeeze me
\nAnd for these fakers talking greasy, I'm starting the show
\nMy uzi got a drum roll, it goes *Gun Sound*
\n
\n{Indistinct Chatter and Gunshots}\n\n
