We Got Lyrics by Ludacris

We Got Lyrics

    [Ludacris]
    DTP we got them guns that go...

    [I-20]
    Yea I'm all about that pistol playa, cold blooded killa
    Niggaz recognize my name, I dub the young dealer
    You better tell ya man that with the gages I'm nice
    I'll shoot up yall white shirts until yall look like dice
    But I'm through with all the talking time to show all you niggaz
    I 2-0, I'm like J-Lo...going through niggaz
    DTP we aint plying if you try to get our pen
    A.K's get ta spraying like...
    Bottom line that mean I'm bout it, any nigga want it, doubt it
    Bust you in the broad day, on the street that's fully crowded
    Find our hole and fagots there, just for thinking its rap
    And tell that pretty bitch thug we got some pretty big gats
    Chaka say I'm shot out, and I tend to agree
    So you should what you saying if it's intended for me
    So be careful what you starting, let my fingers do the walking
    And that oozy get to talking like...

    [Tity Boi]
    Hammers, jam 'em, snatch 'em, grab 'em
    Can the an and fuck 'em, damn 'em
    Press him, man him, scared him, teared him, kneed him up
    Bake him, take him, beat him up, I hate I hate, I eat him up
    A-B-C-E-F shawty is you a G or what
    Now it's just me and my nuts, that's all I got in this world
    I'm pulling pistols out my stomach and throwing them bitches up like earl
    Serving the club, head shot, scattered, covered, run, scram 'em
    I'm 38, hot with a pearl handle...
    And I'm throwing text like a NBA ref
    I got, all gold guns like they came from I-RAQ
    Artillery, could it be I got all kinds of these pistols
    I point my gun at ya homeboy make ya own folks hit ya
    And aint taking no more pictures, if you snap ima click
    Anyway, plus I got bullets in the clip the size of Lil Fate
    And I'm webbing choppers like heli-copters
    You gon' need hella doctors, when the glok go...

    [Chingy]
    Stay on the set bitch, better watch your lip that text be quick
    20 over thurr, Tity over thurr, Luda over thurr, aint no exit trick
    Us you don't mess with, we got them guns like action flicks
    Reload with the next clip, I'm the ro nigga to flex with bitch
    Come on and test this, my gun I'm having sex with shit
    Put a bullet in (in) shoot it out, got them long horns like Texas bitch
    Look at my necklace, maybe hit a ngga disrespect this click
    My pistol grip sound like this...now what
    Who want that they fucked, when I cock and load the cake, bust bust
    Yall cowards play tough, and my peeps we come to spray stuff up
    Yall lives made up, like ugly hoes with make-up bra
    We'll suit you up then toss yo ass in the lake tough nut
    My wrist rocky, like Sylvester Stallone
    So thurr for you should invest, in a vest for ya dome
    Cause I know you marks planning on getting me when I'm landing
    Beast the nick, but my cannon go...

    [Ludacris]
    Fuck a medic, we gon' call yo ass a taxi cab
    Bleedin so hard you'll need a life size maxi pad
    So flip the script and tell your woman its your time on the month
    A.K. 47 for the niggaz who's really looking for heaven and a 9 for you chumps
    Got killaz in my squad and I'm the nicest one in my group
    But I got bananas for you niggaz and I aint talking bout fruit
    Ill pay your CAB BACK with the BLACK MACK
    Till your BACK CRACK, cock the GAT BACK like...CLAK CLAK CLAK
    Swallow a hallow make 'em digest the 50 caliber
    Yo futures not looking so good, tomorrows not on your calendar
    I, do away with the amateurs, they breathing too long
    I'll leave 'em coughing like the sound effects you hear in this song
    My Shotguns are cold and hard, but my Desert is easy
    And my triggers are always talking about some squeeze me, squeeze me
    And for these fakers talking greezy, I'm starting the show
    My Oozy got a drum roll, it goes...

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