Alumni - They Got Guns

They got guns
45s, machine guns, and heavy artillery
They got guns
45s, machine guns, and heavy artillery
Potato on the end of a barrel
A snub nose rings while children sing Christmas carols
The burner is my last resort that you’re asking for
Plus my accuracy is deadly, who could ask for more?
Shells riddle a body, probably not gonna make it
Pistol whip niggas, make ‘em strip buck naked
I’m more for the fisticuffs and a fair one
But I know niggas that don’t fight and don’t care, uh
Guns don’t kill people, it’s the trigger man
Riding shotgun, gun powder on my fingers - damn
Protect myself at all times, defend my home
Tryin’a get my carrying license, so I can pack chrome
The double-barrel knock your shoulder out of place
Put the gun down your throat, wipe that smile off your face
I’d rather put hands on you like a palm reader
But I got guns like I bought ‘em from an arms dealer
They got guns
45s, machine guns, and heavy artillery
They got guns
45s, machine guns, and heavy artillery
Yeah
I’m either brave or insane, but I won’t back down
I hold my ground, and mock the girly way you hold the pound
Point it at me sideways, hold it upside-down
Spin it around like a cowboy - you’re so tough now
Grab the grip and pistol-whip me ’til my lip splits - ow!
Empty your clip, I’ll pop some shit before I hit the ground
‘Cause I don’t buy your threats, especially when they’re extra loud
So tryin’a scare me’s like tryin’a hold your breath and drown
I’m trembling, wow man, I’m shaking in my boots
Matter of fact, I think I might’a just made a little poop
In my panties, running down my leg and staining up my shoes
Now my stomach’s all in knots, and I’m afraid I’m gonna puke
I should run and hide and cry, that’s what he’s tryin’a make me do
Wish I never started poppin’ off to such a gangsta dude
He says he’s gonna shoot me now, there’s nothing I can do
And I believe him, ‘cause he’s got that gun, he looks so fucking cool
They got guns
45s, machine guns, and heavy artillery
They got guns
45s, machine guns, and heavy artillery
Look
This a waste of my mu’fuckin’ time
To kill a mixtape with a motherfuckin’ line
So I hold back and give you just enough
I done passed y’all lames, just like communion cups
I’m a hungry lion with the money virus
You’ll never get to the green, y’all niggas been liars
I’m in the game - Capcom
Pushin’ that white girl, I call it Black Swan
I’m conceited, blood
I got an ego, cuz
They say I got hard raps, like Margarito’s gloves
I stay focused, my writtens is bogus
I’m makin’ moves like an eviction notice, what?
Picture perfect, a sentence mentioned with murder verses
Slow swervin’, a cup of bourbon in left hand
I’m blowin’ up like a political sex scam
If the tech blam, better duck like the wetlands
They got guns
45s, machine guns, and heavy artillery
Makin’ license plates for cars, and oh
Writin’ to lawyers
When I get out, I hope, I hope, I hope

Written by:
Brian Bush, Kellyn Crawley, Kevin Jacobson

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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