side Guns, guns, guns Run, take the money, here?s a bullet for your boyfriend Guns, guns, guns Eagle all gone, and no more caribou Guns, guns, guns You
Traduction: Guess Who. Guns Guns Guns.
[Verse 1: B.o.B] Well me and her were the 2 Me and her were together like glue But we lived packed in a shack Like the old lady who lived in a shoe And
a Disney child star, hurts hard Feelin buffy on my huffy when the skirts off I can mashpotato turnin you jerks off So cool, raisin in the sun untill it's prune juice Playin with guns
They say tricks are for kids most chicks woulda slid but who aint miss a visit through the six that you did I'll be damned if I do another six with some kids who
Ily-A You Might Be Familiar With A Few Face's But They Still A 9 Milly Ya They Be Like Tha Young Guns, So I'm Guess I'm Willy Bra I Do More Than Willaim
is on your wrist Like you repping the bionic six Who wanna fire, when guns fire, your lungs tire I'm an idol, niggas is Sanjaya, now who wanna try us
like Sponge Bob on the wrist One white, one gold, one nice, untold You can look but don't touch, Guns might unload, now I respect them thugs who get the
Bob on the wrist One white, one gold, one nice, untold You can look but don't touch, Guns might unload, now-I respect them thugs who get the jackin' on
the chorus T would kill every verse Then people would go and mix it for us We was making so much nosie the neighbours they could not ignore us Now we in the [?] guess who
had worse with ya Now war missiles hand guns and grenades The walls I couldn't break em or take em apart with a tank Now momma told me be careful who
Movement Look At All The Goons That I Move With Homies, Guns, Vest & Boots On That Platoon Shit Best, Artist In The West Yes, Liturally The Fans Comparing Me To Who
weed all day, Tell me who gon' fuck around with Joseph Wayne McVey? The King of the Ghetto ain't no punk mothafucka, I'll open my hand and slap mothafuckas, I guess
See me with the Mac-11, sending fifty through your glass Am I losing my mind, I don't know and I don't really give a damn But these motherfuckers, gon know who
cha [2Pac:] (I ain't mad at cha) I ain't, mad, at cha [2Pac:] (A true down ass bitch, and I ain't mad at cha) [Verse Three: 2Pac] Well guess who's movin
(feat. Elton John) Hit them with a lil' ghetto gospel [Chorus:] Those who wish to follow me (My ghetto gospel) I welcome with my hands And the red sun
(feat. Elton John) Uhh, Hit them with a lil' ghetto gospel [Chorus - Elton John:] Those who wish to follow me (My ghetto gospel) I welcome with my
bitch Let my pedigree, re-breed me, they're so cheap Puttin bitch-made bustas to sleep with no grief Mash on my so-called comp, who the man? While I'm