Busta Rhymes — 10 Gun Commandment

[Intro] 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 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 [Verse] 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