Voici , ce que j´ai trouvé , les lyrics de Bust Your Guns des LOX ( Jadakiss/Styles P/Sheek Louch ) qui font partie des Ruff Ryders , voici les lyrics tu me diras si c´est ça 
Artist: The L.O.X.
Album: Exit Wounds soundtrack
Song: Bust Your Gun
Typed by: Uptownkilla181@aol.com *
- send corrections to the typist
Shit is crazy.. can´t believe it
Ha, haha, oooh, shit
We don´t give a fuck about you frostin´ ya hand ( fuck),
cause knockin´ off these bricks then often yo´ man
That´s the kinda boss that I am ( why not),
and I´ma play shotgun, smoke the pores make a van
Hollarin´ at you so deep and so sick wit´ the guns
When I walk by the wake I want the cough in the stand ( stand up)
So hold up for one minute ( what)
You won´t catch me in the tub, in the whip,
or the club without a gun in it,
and don´t come through the strip,
lookin´ hard in the car, with ya motherfuckin´ daughter and ya son in it
Lately I been missin´ my fred, the roof pop ( too hot),
but feel me cause he hittin´ the stairs, the truth pop
Niggaz think this album cuts ( haha!)
I´m like fuck it, I´m the nigga comin through the door wit two revolvers up ( two ´em),
and I´m takin´ all drama,
and I spent twenty thou´ motherfucker so I just got more problems
[Chorus]
You got´sta bust yo´ gun,
cause if you don´t then niggaz know you won´t they gon´ touch yo´ ones
Got´sta bend yo´ knife,
cause if you don´t then niggaz know you won´t they gon´ change yo´ life
Aiyyo, who gotta my name huh?
Who think it´s a fuckin´ game ( c´mon)
Like yo´ money can´t be found under the cane ( y´know)
Like yo´ body can´t be found under the trains
Like this punk we´ll shatter apart your brain ( bla!)
I´ma thug wit´ no scars, and no braids,
but I could aim, and shoot through the heart or your shades
I´m too row, plus too quick on the gat ( uh-huh)
Hate water, but I leave you wit´ a wills play-back
I don´t give a fuck if all y´all go to the cops,
and I don´t give a fuck if none of y´all gimmie my props
I got shit in my name and my credit is worse
What´s to stop me from shootin´ you first? FUCK YOU! ( haha)
I´m like tattoos, you forget that I´m there ( uh-huh)
To the gun fire perm your hair
Miss you, and go strait through your moms rockin´ chair,
through her back and it ain´t stopin´ there!
[Chorus] - 2X
Bounce my niggaz.. c´mon
Sheek and S.P., rock, rock on ( c´mon)
Bust shots ´til your glock can´t pop no more ( hahaha)
Let it down ´til your top can´t drop no more ( uh-huh)
Hit you up ´til your spirit where the Eagles fly ( c´mon)
Talk to me, if you really come back then you´ll die ( c´mon)
Make me believe, no shirt but still got some shit up my sleeve
No asthma, makin´ it hard to breathe
Let´s go, aiyyo Styles take this motherfuckin´ mic from me, c´mon
Aight.. aiyyo, P´ll tell it like story, just like a narrator
Ya don´t mean it, we snappin´ it like the Aligators
Open ya eyes so you can see what the drama mean
I hit ya man in the cheek wit´ a barber blade,
and I´m in the first floot at the ( ?) Parade
Forty on the weights wit´ a fifty on the garcarade
Always got the route, never had the heart to beg
You ain´t seein´ shit ´til a slug rip a part´a head
[Chorus] - 4X
