We Got That

[Intro: Fatt Father]
I gotta get amped
'Cause I ain't really feeling this verse right here
But you know the shit I don't feel, that be my dopest shit
You know (Yeah!)
Shit
Uh huh

[Verse 1: Fatt Father]
It's been a long time coming and I finally arrived
Along with my little brother and a couple of nines
Get out of line, we gon' see a couple of spines
Get twisted line speaker wire in the back of my ride (Hell yeah)
But I'm cold enough to freeze your manhood
Have you on a spittle with a straw to suck the juice out of canned goods
In the hood we something you couldn't even imagine
Like F.K. all getting full off one sandwich
Gangster shit for your shit to vibe to
Before they 16 hopefully they gon' ride too
Hustling and cooking up pies too
Oh and if they live in my hood then they working for my crew
These slugs will look better inside you, that's no fibbing
You 'bout to up the population of the unliving
You ain't real, you fake as Miss Cleo
I throw a fit and leave a whole clip in your girls [cheo?]

[Chorus: Marv Won & Fatt Father]
That gangster shit? We Got That
Your address? Yeah We Got That
We'll put bombs where you cop at
Fat Killahz, who gon' stop that?
That wild out shit? We Got That
Marv and Fatts, who gon' top that?
That gangster shit? We Got That, that thug shit? We Got That
That street shit? We Got That, that rock shit? We Got That

[Verse 2: Fatt Father & Marv Won]
It's the Midwest tag team
Fresh up out of the gutter we let the mag scream
Not just scream and scream and holler
Look this red beam will follow anything from your Grand Am to your green Impala
In Detroit, Killahz fiend for dollars, love queens that swallow
Stay blowed off Jim Beam and vodka
And Seagram's Gin, all my niggas need to win
We'll bleed your kin, these slugs make your breathing end
I hope it's God you're believing in
'Cause in a zipped black bag is what you leaving in, you need a friend
I'm not the one, in tight spots I pop the gun
You wanna knuckle? That's like fighting Mike Tyson's son
Or Joe Louis back in '41, it's impossible
You might as well reserve a room up at the hospital
Hand game is serious, bang thangs ridiculous
I mame lames and leave blood stains just like a period (Bitch!)

[Chorus: Marv Won & Fatt Father]
That gangster shit? We Got That
Your address? Yeah We Got That
We'll put bombs where you cop at
Fat Killahz, who gon' stop that?
That wild out shit? We Got That
Marv and Fatts, who gon' top that?
That gangster shit? We Got That, that thug shit? We Got That
That street shit? We Got That, that rock shit? We Got That

[Verse 3: Marv Won]
Man your niggas done came to a fork in the road
And either way you gonna die 'cause I'm a pipe bomb forced to explode
I let 'em go, if I'm forced to reload, everyone's catching one
I'm a hothead that's forced to be cold
I'm reformed but now and then a nigga acts up
I left them gats up and he gets clapped over rap stuff
So for you niggas who think this shit's jamming
And you wore that, you can one from this Nick Cannon
So nigga fuck a drumline and your bum rhymes
Put it to rest one time with a shot from one nine
I'll take one spine and turn it to two
Rip you in half whenever I put the burner to you
Man I'm determined to do 'Pac and Biggie numbers
Keep my name in the hood and rock for fifty Summers
I'm the shit and I ain't dead yet
I'ma put 'em in your heart while my brother put the lead where your head's at

[Chorus x2: Marv Won & Fatt Father]
That gangster shit? We Got That
Your address? Yeah We Got That
We'll put bombs where you cop at
Fat Killahz, who gon' stop that?
That wild out shit? We Got That
Marv and Fatts, who gon' top that?
That gangster shit? We Got That, that thug shit? We Got That
That street shit? We Got That, that rock shit? We Got That