[Intro ghostface killah]

I love my heat, yeah, youknowhatitis

You know it stay hot, just a little tale about my gun

Feel the neck on that nigga, that's my homey, uh, yo, aiyo

[Ghostface killah]

I kept the same gun for nine years, navy blue glock

In the blue safe, right upstairs

I make sure that little nigga stay warm, tuck him under my pillow

Case the robbers come, I gotta perform

Kiss him night-night, mwuah, read him bedtime stories

Times I just stared at him, the glock forty

His belly stay full, and he on a strict diet

I feed him lead, he good, he at ease when fired

Go to sleep mr. gat, I had him doing doubles for two days

And this the only way I get back

Besides changing your diaper, me and your click

Got niggas defecating in shit bags, they full of shit

[Interlude sheek louch]

Yeah, that still my nigga though, son

I can't live without him

Special relationship with that muthafucka

You feel me right? you feel me, ghost?

Wu-block, uh

[Sheek louch]

I known him ever since he was nine, now he 22

Thinking he 45, that nigga is live

Like to come with me everywhere when I drive

Trouble maker same time, keep you alive

His ego too big, he be getting pumped

I told him chill, he said it's better when you getting jumped

No matter how you face it, now matter where you place me

Since the day that I was born, I ain't have safety

He went from y.o. to staten, that's real talk

He hung with puff, he was with shyne in club new york

Now he with me, he hurt him like angelina jolie

With them babies, I raised them up from 380's

I raised them up from 380's, I raised them up from 380's

[Interlude styles p]

That wu-block shit, nigga, yeah

[Styles p]

I still pour liquor after I pop bottles

Got a friend named deuce nickel, the cops got him

Back then when the coke price was rock bottom

I robbed a lot of spots with him, and I'm not lying

Then I got knocked with him and the cops kept him

I reminisce and get high over a lot of weapons

Got a friend named nine, caught up in the murder one

I ain't seen him since, cuz my man had to murder son

Homey named thirty-eight, he pop with him

And it ain't too often that he's not with him

Call 'em your guns, I call 'em my friends

Pop it off or keep it tucked, guess it all that depend, yeah