Shooting Guns

[Hook]

Got my guns and magazines

And a red one from a beam

Nothing is quite as it seems

F*ck with me and you will see



Shoot your gun now make you a believer

Now you better pray for something more



[Verse 1 - 50 Cent]

I go to war till my heart stops, n*ggas ain't listening

Get the thumping and the dumping at your newborn's christening

Tell your homie tell his homies, he gon' need more homies

Ain't this a b*tch I got an extended clip right on me

And my diamonds on my neck, a dead n*gga did scheme on it

The Ruger on deck, it's hard to miss with a beam on it

I'll give your ass a permanent nap, sing you a lullaby

I got money to run, so f*ck an alibi



[Hook]

Shoot your gun now make you a believer

Now you better pray for something more



[Verse 2 - 50 Cent]

Yeah, I believe you when you say you tough n*gga

All that means is you f*ck n*gga

I get the drop, I'm on it

Morning, noon or night, I spot ya I got ya

Wake up cuffed to your bed your bed, cops asking "Who shot ya?"

As the world turns, people will be learned

That hollow tips burn and I ain't concerned if I ain't hit

And I ain't here, so a n*gga doesn't really give a sh*t

You know who you f*cking with

Come through, dump more than a clip

N*ggas be on some stupid sh*t

Till they get hit, ain't that a b*tch?



[Verse 3 - Kidd Kidd]

K-I double, shot gun barrel double

I always front a couple and I move 'em on a double

Racks in the duffel, Mac with the muzzle

Make me circle you in all black like a tunnel

I only know how to hustle, can't stay outta trouble

I got a big gun, muthaf*ckers scuffle

Kidd Kidd, will you ever change?

F*ck no, pimps don't ride a game you already f*cking know



[Hook]

Got my guns and magazines

And a red one from a beam

Nothing is quite as it seems

F*ck with me and you will see



Shoot your gun now make you a believer

Now you better pray for something more



[Verse 4 - Kidd Kidd]

Man these n*ggas so fake, I call 'em knock offd

Light pringles high pop the top off

You ain't hot dog

You the f*cking mickey mouse song

I'm on fire like Louisiana hot sauce

Brand new Jays cost a buck fifty n*gga

You scuff these I scar your face buck fifty n*gga

Been f*cking with them pigs, you a guinea n*gga

Plus you always baked, you's a gimme n*gga

I wear my gun like it's trendy n*gga

You pussy and ain't sh*t, kitty litter

Uh, see where all that b*tching getcha

Right in front of this pistol



[Hook]

Got my guns and magazines

And a red one from a beam

Nothing is quite as it seems

F*ck with me and you will see



Shoot your gun now make you a believer

Now you better pray for something more