We Got Da Gats Lyrics

We Got Da Gats lyrics

[ 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