We Got lyrics

Artist  : Ludacris 
Song : We Got



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[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
Ill shoot up yall white shirts until yall
look like dikes
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]
Say 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
I'm
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, got the GAT BACK like...CLAK
CLAK CLAK
Swallow a hallow make 'em digest
with a 50 caliber
Yo futures not looking so
good, tomorrows not on your calendar
I, do
away with the amateurs, they breathing too
long
Ill 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...