10 Gun Commandment - Busta Rhymes

It’s the 10 gun commandments, what

Yeah

My gun toting niggas

Big ratchet handle (Yeah)

My illegal gun smugglers (Yeah)

See, it don’t take much to learn a nigga something

Burn a nigga fast, you fix a nigga behavior real quick

Flickmode bitch

Yeah, I’ve been in this game for years, I had a whole lot of fun

Because of some of you pussies now I collect a lot of guns

My crib like Discovery channel, all solar planet

Once I palm the ratchet

You and your peeps can catch it

Hombre uno, every time you leave your home

Pack a couple gats and go, yeah you know

You better believe especially me

Would already be in my waistline tucked never giving a fuck

Number 2, in the nighttime hitting the move

Don’t you know it’s best busting off when silencers are silencers

his whole block

Have niggas shitting their self as soon as they hearing the gun cock

Number 3, best believe I keep the shotty

In the line I’m on the trench, I don’t bleed on no park bench

Now your mom, fuck the fingerprints

Keep the buckets with the acid

The Glocks they shoot is plastic

Number 4, gun niggas heard this before

Better clean that man before your Glock jammed

Number 5, never bust your gun where you sleep son

Unless you fighting to live or protecting your crib

Number 6, you beat your ankle, give him a sample

Let the MAC rip him in half, make an example

7, if your team pussy don’t call 'em

Or on News 11 to be reporting

The death of 2 dumb niggas, died so sudden

While one nigga really deserved it, the other died for nothing

And number 8, don’t ever move stupid in broad

Make sure you got you a bitch to bring your gat in the club

Number 9, when you bag your gun real quick

Before a nigga fronting, she in the bathroom with your shit

'Cause once they see you harmless 'cause they know you’re armless

I could promise your spirit a lift like it’s caught in a harness

Number 10, you make sure you got a long clip

You miss a couple times, it could still shoot a nigga shit

If you ain’t got no ammunition, better lay low

'Fore you get clapped while our audience watch you die slow

Follow these rules, keep the ratchet, fuck the knife

Move accurate, plot the rules, add years to your life

Shots burning, it cook the skin, trust me

But leaving him popped first before a nigga bust me

Put bullets where your blunt be

Blood leaking out your ass like bitches on their monthly

It’s fucked up the way a son’s mother probably cuss me

Gotta bounce, gotta run, then go load my guns B

Ugly