Game feat. Rick Ross & Beanie Sigel Heavy Artillery Lyrics

The R.E.D. Album Track Listing
Digital Media 1
  • 1 Dr. Dre Intro
  • 2 The City
  • 3 Drug Test
  • 4 Martians vs. Goblins
  • 5 Red Nation
  • 6 Dr. Dre, Part 1
  • 7 Good Girls Gone Bad
  • 8 Ricky
  • 9 The Good, the Bad, the Ugly
  • 10 Heavy Artillery
  • 11 Paramedics
  • 12 Speakers on Blast
  • 13 Hello
  • 14 All the Way Gone
  • 15 Pot of Gold
  • 16 Dr. Dre, Part 2
  • 17 All I Know
  • 18 Born in the Trap
  • 19 Mama Knows
  • 20 California Dream
  • 21 Dr. Dre Outro
  • 22 Basic Bitch
  • "You know we got em
    Forty fives, machine guns, heavy artillery
    We got those grenades on your ***, *****
    Boss, Black Wall Street
    I'm in that bulletproof Maybach ***** (Teflon Don)"

    ***** talking like a G but walking like a broad
    I pull up at the light, pineapple in your car
    ***** I shatter lives, my music camouflage
    I court killers at the center of my synagogue
    Torch in hand, extortion to the fortune five hundred
    From the porches to the Porsche's with the wides on it
    'Fore you snitches *****, you better put your lives on it
    Get you twisted by the ? with them wires on it
    I get my money smoking spliffs like it's Friday
    I'm sitting sideways like I'm in my driveway
    My champagne kicks, my **** three wheels
    You *****s six feet, we gettin' three meals

    They got jumped
    Forty fives, machine guns, and heavy artillery
    They got jumped
    Forty fives, machine guns, and heavy artillery

    Yeah I got two gun charges, two felonies, just got off probation
    Today ************, won't budge for no charge
    Real *****, I hold no grudge with no thugs
    Come through spraying, bullets out the McLaren
    They ain't meant for you, so move *****, you hard of hearing?
    I speed off doing 90 with the Carter blaring
    Bust shots in the Cavalier like I ball with Baron
    Yeah I Blake Griff *****s, make stiff *****s
    Eminem wasn't Dr. Dre's only sick *****

    Insane in the membrane like Soul Assassins
    Twelve gauge stop a ***** heart like a bowl of Aspirin
    I hold automatics, let your man hold the casket
    Murder game cold as Aspen, body found in the trash bin
    First forty-eight, they don't find me, case closed
    Like a rehabilitation spot in Bobby Brown nose
    Take em back to Boyz in da Hood when I pull the pump out
    Something like C-Murder on Worldstar when I dump out


    Ain't nothing changed but them bullets in my clip
    I still pull it, still bully *****s on the strip
    Beef, I cook it fully with the fifth
    And I ain't got no pets, I put a bullet in ya *****
    A ***** with a gun in his hand who won't bust it?
    Like a ***** with a **** in her hand who won't suck it
    This is the art of war, you *****s just drawing
    Anything I target on is dearly departed, gone
    Drive by or walk up on, I just stop, breathe, aim **** squeeze
    Silencer on the Glock, infrared beam
    So your block up on machines while the pussies run and scream

    [Chorus: x3]

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