| Song | Stick to Ya Gunz |
| Artist | M.O.P. |
| Album | Firing Squad |
| 作曲 : Grinnage, Kool G Rap, Martin ... | |
| Intro (sampled)： | |
| Calling the police, calling the g men | |
| Calling all americans to war on the underworld | |
| All i need is money, and i'm getting that money tonight | |
| Verse one: lil' fame | |
| Let's take a slide through the ill side of town with this b-boy | |
| Watch out for jake, snakes and decoys | |
| The streets keep you p-noid | |
| Everyday's a new game, we do thangs for new thangs | |
| This kid got stopped for like three g's and two chains | |
| Yo, i know about these streets i was raised in | |
| In my crib i heard villians outside blazin | |
| Mad shots was poppin and, i see visions of droppin men | |
| Five minutes later some nigga was sprawled out on hopkinson | |
| That's why this +downtown swinga+ | |
| Ruckus bringa be packin bangers | |
| That make your whole shit out of clothes hangers | |
| It's only one life to give in, get in where ya fit in | |
| The fo'-fo' will cold push ya shit in | |
| So keep ya gun breezed for fuckin with these new york desperadoes | |
| We'll bust open your head like avocadoes | |
| Heavy artillery in my facility | |
| For you snake ass ones i stick to my gunz | |
| Chorus: | |
| Yo what up? ain't nothin; is it real? yeah son | |
| What's todays mathematics nigga? stick to ya gunz! | |
| What's the word? ain't nothin; is it real? yeah son | |
| What's todays knowledge of self? stick to ya gunz! | |
| Verse two: billy danze | |
| The most beautifullest thing in the world is a fo'-fo' desert eagle | |
| Nigga, that shit is diesel!! | |
| Lethal hollow point slugs bust through any object | |
| Squeeze it at rapid fire, clear the whole projects | |
| I ain't gonna be beefin or eyein you | |
| Silently i move violently | |
| Me, ain't no reliable see | |
| I been chasin and lacin tough guys for days | |
| Findin ways to erase em, and blaze em in the grave | |
| If it happen the squad's cappin, i'm in the mix | |
| And i'd rather be touched by twelve, than laid by six | |
| My kind, on the front line still standin | |
| Mr. billy danze, and i'll work you with a mini cannon | |
| Holdin it down it's the drama lord | |
| So you riff, you be lift and laid stiff as a fuckin board | |
| Firin squad, niggaz on the run | |
| Get props from top notch niggaz that ill bill, stick to they guns | |
| Chorus: repeat 2x | |
| Verse three: kool g. rap | |
| Aiyyo, i represent queens, on crime scenes a murder machine | |
| Put m-16's in niggaz spleens | |
| So head for the hills, nigga cause when i get ill | |
| It's blood spilled for real | |
| I aim my fuckin steel and shoot to kill | |
| So grab your bodyshield get ready for the dustin | |
| The biscuit that i'm clutchin | |
| Puffin like cess but that's the fuckin dutchman | |
| Buckin at all you sucka cluckin niggaz that want the ruckus | |
| We'll be three niggaz who's clappin but we ain't applaudin you motherfuckers | |
| Keep my mack hid up under back, two shots to crack lids | |
| Ain't gotta go rush to toys r us to get you cabbage patch kids | |
| Once i let the laser beams gleam and the red dots are seen, | |
| Your whole team is gettin blown to smithereens | |
| Queens on the motherfuckin map nigga we stay strapped | |
| In fact i let a ak cap push your toupee back | |
| Runnin with mad sons gunnin shit up and leave your hit up for the funds | |
| Niggaz better stick to they guns | |
| Chorus: repeat 2x |
| zuò qǔ : Grinnage, Kool G Rap, Martin ... | |
| Intro sampled: | |
| Calling the police, calling the g men | |
| Calling all americans to war on the underworld | |
| All i need is money, and i' m getting that money tonight | |
| Verse one: lil' fame | |
| Let' s take a slide through the ill side of town with this bboy | |
| Watch out for jake, snakes and decoys | |
| The streets keep you pnoid | |
| Everyday' s a new game, we do thangs for new thangs | |
| This kid got stopped for like three g' s and two chains | |
| Yo, i know about these streets i was raised in | |
| In my crib i heard villians outside blazin | |
| Mad shots was poppin and, i see visions of droppin men | |
| Five minutes later some nigga was sprawled out on hopkinson | |
| That' s why this downtown swinga | |
| Ruckus bringa be packin bangers | |
| That make your whole shit out of clothes hangers | |
| It' s only one life to give in, get in where ya fit in | |
| The fo' fo' will cold push ya shit in | |
| So keep ya gun breezed for fuckin with these new york desperadoes | |
| We' ll bust open your head like avocadoes | |
| Heavy artillery in my facility | |
| For you snake ass ones i stick to my gunz | |
| Chorus: | |
| Yo what up? ain' t nothin is it real? yeah son | |
| What' s todays mathematics nigga? stick to ya gunz! | |
| What' s the word? ain' t nothin is it real? yeah son | |
| What' s todays knowledge of self? stick to ya gunz! | |
| Verse two: billy danze | |
| The most beautifullest thing in the world is a fo' fo' desert eagle | |
| Nigga, that shit is diesel!! | |
| Lethal hollow point slugs bust through any object | |
| Squeeze it at rapid fire, clear the whole projects | |
| I ain' t gonna be beefin or eyein you | |
| Silently i move violently | |
| Me, ain' t no reliable see | |
| I been chasin and lacin tough guys for days | |
| Findin ways to erase em, and blaze em in the grave | |
| If it happen the squad' s cappin, i' m in the mix | |
| And i' d rather be touched by twelve, than laid by six | |
| My kind, on the front line still standin | |
| Mr. billy danze, and i' ll work you with a mini cannon | |
| Holdin it down it' s the drama lord | |
| So you riff, you be lift and laid stiff as a fuckin board | |
| Firin squad, niggaz on the run | |
| Get props from top notch niggaz that ill bill, stick to they guns | |
| Chorus: repeat 2x | |
| Verse three: kool g. rap | |
| Aiyyo, i represent queens, on crime scenes a murder machine | |
| Put m16' s in niggaz spleens | |
| So head for the hills, nigga cause when i get ill | |
| It' s blood spilled for real | |
| I aim my fuckin steel and shoot to kill | |
| So grab your bodyshield get ready for the dustin | |
| The biscuit that i' m clutchin | |
| Puffin like cess but that' s the fuckin dutchman | |
| Buckin at all you sucka cluckin niggaz that want the ruckus | |
| We' ll be three niggaz who' s clappin but we ain' t applaudin you motherfuckers | |
| Keep my mack hid up under back, two shots to crack lids | |
| Ain' t gotta go rush to toys r us to get you cabbage patch kids | |
| Once i let the laser beams gleam and the red dots are seen, | |
| Your whole team is gettin blown to smithereens | |
| Queens on the motherfuckin map nigga we stay strapped | |
| In fact i let a ak cap push your toupee back | |
| Runnin with mad sons gunnin shit up and leave your hit up for the funds | |
| Niggaz better stick to they guns | |
| Chorus: repeat 2x |