| DTP we got them guns that go
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| *Gunshots*
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| Yea I’m all about that pistol player, cold blooded killer
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| Niggas recognize my name, I dub the young dealer
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| You better tell ya man that with the gages I’m nice
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| Ill shoot up y’all white shirts until you all look like dice
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| But I’m through with all the talking time to show all you niggas
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| I 2−0, I’m like J-Lo…going through niggas
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| DTP we ain’t playing if you try to get our pay
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| And them A. K's get to spraying like
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| Bottom line that mean I’m bout it, any nigga want it, doubt it
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| Bust you in the broad day, on a street that’s fully crowded
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| You’ll find a hole inside your chest, just for thinking it’s rap
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| So tell that pretty bitch thug we got some pretty big gats
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| Chaka say I’m shot out, and I tend to agree
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| So you should watch what you saying if it’s intended for me
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| So be careful what you starting, let my fingers do the walking
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| And that Uzi get to talking like *Gun Sound*
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| Hammers, jam 'em, snatch 'em, grab 'em
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| Can the an and fuck 'em, damn 'em
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| Press him, man him, scared him, teared him, kneed him up
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| Bake him, take him, beat him up, I hate I hate, I eat him up
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| A-B-C-D-E-F shawty is you a G or what
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| Now it’s just me and my nuts, that’s all I got in this world
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| I’m pulling pistols out my stomach and throwing them bitches up like earl
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| Serving the club, head shot, scattered, covered, run, scram 'em
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| I’m 38, hot with a pearl handle
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| And I’m throwing techs like a NBA ref
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| I got, all gold guns like they came from I-RAQ
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| Artillery, could it be I got all kinds of these pistols
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| I point my gun at ya homeboy make ya own folks hit ya
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| And they ain’t taking no more pictures, if you snap I’mma click
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| Anyway, plus I got bullets in the clip the size of Lil Fate
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| And I’m waving choppers like heli-copters
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| You gonna need hella doctors, when the glok go *Gun Sound*
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| Say on the set bitch, better watch your lip those Tecs spit quick
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| 20 over thurr, Tity over thurr, Luda over thurr, ain’t no exit trick
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| Us you don’t mess with, we got them guns like action flicks
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| Reload with the next clip, I’m the wrong nigga to flex with bitch
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| Come on and test this, my gun I’m having sex with shit
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| Put a bullet in (in) shoot it out, got them long horns like Texas bitch
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| Look at my necklace, maybe hit a nigga disrespect this click
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| My pistol grip sound like this… now what
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| Who want they day fucked, when I cock and load the K, bust bust
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| Y’all cowards play tough, and my peeps we come to spray stuff up
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| Y’all lives made up, like ugly hoes with make-up bra
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| We’ll shoot you up then toss yo ass in the lake tough nut
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| My wrist rocky like Sylvester Stallone
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| So thurr for you should invest, in a vest for your dome
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| Cause I know you marks planning on getting me when I’m landing
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| Peace to Nick, but my cannon go *Gun Sound*
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| Fuck a medic, we gonna call yo ass a taxi cab
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| Bleeding so hard you’ll need a life size maxi pad
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| So flip the script and tell your woman its your time of the month
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| AK-47 for the niggas who’s really looking for heaven and a 9 for you chumps
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| Got killers in my squad and I’m the nicest one in my group
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| But I got bananas for you niggas and I ain’t talking bout fruit
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| I’ll peel your cap back with the black mac
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| 'Til your back crack, cock the gat back like (clak clak clak)
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| Swallow a hollow make 'em digest with a 50 caliber
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| Your futures not looking so good, tomorrows not on your calendar
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| I do away with the amateurs, they breathing too long
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| Ill leave 'em coughing like the sound effects you hear in this song
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| My shotguns are cold and hard, but my
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| desert is easy
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| And my triggers are always talking about some squeeze me, squeeze me
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| And for these fakers talking greasy, I’m starting the show
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| My uzi got a drum roll, it goes *Gun Sound* |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song We Got, artist - Ludacris. Album song Chicken - N - Beer, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп