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Artist: Buddha Monk & Popa Wu f/ C.C.F. Division, Daddy Rose, I-Born, Ty-Jigs
Album:  Zu-Chronicles, Vol. 5: Back Then
Song:   Gun Ho
Typed by: Tha Masta

[Intro: ShaCronz, (Daddy Rose)]
I'm good from right here?
(Yeah, nigga you good)
Right here, right here, right here
(U.K., U.K., nigga, all the way nigga)
Sha Dada, Lil' Free, I-Born, what?
Billy Box, Cronz Dada
Think about it

[Chorus 2X: Daddy Rose]
Brooklyn is gun ho
U.K., shit, we quick to let the gun blow
Might just hit yo' nigga if you run slow
Kill 'im wit one blow, shit be gun ho
Shit be gun ho

Raise the stakes like the hiss, put some shit in my mince-meat
Brain couldn't explain why them snakes tried to lynch me
Steppin through the vetrabutes with decibels
Armed in your premises, vision is suspended in suspense
Read the images, shorty loops
Avirex twenty-two karat dentures kickin G's mixed with Juice
That's the shit God, whole team laundry dirty green
Blaze the scene, puttin victims in this high beam
Some were givin fiends credit, gettin double in return
Let it bubble not burn, some listen didn't learn
Peep the whole scheme, forty of us say shit
Deathbed nigga faced it, sacrificed his own just to make it
Made his way off the pavement (hit him up!)
One time, five G's was for the job and five-one was done
Don't shatter, fifteen, blunted out so it really ain't matter
Bomb shit 'til the mission is accomplished, fuck the don shit
Pirahnas, bitin, pray with they harmless, silence
The Thief in the Night, some are weak, before the fight
Pass these fiends all they pipes
Who's to blame for a mother's love that relieves to the thug?
Bitch feelin toppled from his drugs, but give him hugs

Cronz dada
Seen Jig's garments, and don't we kill Sargeants?
Leave 'em on the back of milk cartons
Stay sheist, still starvin (haha!), but yo we still starvin
Do meals in concrete field, we still robbin
Known to fill the odds when mob men approach me
Run over most crews and dice blood, toast you
Keep streets flooded like a riot in Watts
Nigga seen in a high park, nigga wire get shot nigga
Wreck the cells up like mercury, ain't nobody hurtin me
Got you woven like surgery, lyrics sick like infermeries
Hold you in low duece, run through crews like Toble
Peep the shit my niggaz go through

[Chorus 2X]

[Free Murda]
All my niggaz pop crist', slang dick to bangin chicks
Whoever hangin wit get asked without sayin shit
My music just playin it, tracks I'm layin it
Guns I'm sprayin it, loop the energy, while I'm regainin it
My niggaz I'm maintainin wit, dress codes I'm changin it
On some new shit, fuck Lieutenants, I'm not playin shit
Brooklyn, Fort Green, I'm claimin it
Oh tre' bonds, I'm gangbangin wit G.K.B. and shit
I'm crucial, front and I will shoot you
Bulletproof suit, Free don't play no games
Ason's sprayin the things, snatch up chains
I say no names, sick Willie's for they cocaine
If your man front I'm shootin him, ain't no tellin what I do to him
For real I'm true to them, bloody your fam' without deucin 'em
Roscoes I'm choosin 'em, I love the D.E.
Cock and I squeeze, have a nigga kneal to his knees
Bleed internally, hit you wit sixteen, draw the whole team up
Swiss cheese from the knees up

I'm pollyin wit pradas, divine mommies that's thick
Dipped in Walley's, body and shit
In lobbies, Don Juan like John Gotti and shit
Bringed by the fed's, my name spread like shotti's that's spit
In clubs partyin wit this snotty chick, hotties that trick
Time be shit, my hobby is this
Giani Versaccian chick just slob me in whips
You got me, you can't copy this on floppy disk
Wanna go to war? Uncut raw like poppi's bricks
No more Kadafi hits or Julianni clicks
Or pick, stick karate flicks, gotta be rich
Publically, won the lottery once poverty hits
Robbery shit, Godfather, large revolver
Problem solver, shots revolve, cops and robbers
Mob honor, guns and G's, thugs that squeeze
Freeze in the Hummer with screams, guns under dungerees
Runnin from D's, number my tongue to cheese
By all means, cut you with ease for a couple of keys
Buckle for bees, in the summer hustlin schemes
Team in the jungle doublin C.R.E.A.M.

[Interlude: ShaCronz, (Daddy Rose)]
What? (Yeah, nigga, yeah)
What? (Yeah, nigga, yeah)

[Chorus 2X]

[Outro: ShaCronz, (I-Born)]
Yeah, yeah, motherfuckers
(I-Born, I-Born, Daddy Rose)
Straight all the way, nigga, Lil' Free, baby
I Born baby, uh-uh, uh-uh
Sha Dada baby, Sha Dada baby
(U.K., U.K., U.K., baby)
Sha Dada baby (U.K.)
Uh-uh, Ty-Jigs, Lil' Free
(U.K., U.K.)
Brooklyn, yo, we goin
Brooklyn, shitted on
What? What?
Fuck this, man, take us out
(We the illest, the most realest)