[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