Ryan Roush:
I’m in the rat race, them fat faces
Takin this to another level I get the masses to mass hate us
So I put a little gas in my gas tank
Y’all think yall the last but your ass ain’t
Cause I’m bringin the rear up
…turn it up loud so your ass can hear us
They say that I’m not the one to give it up and they’re right
I’m one of the ones who live it up and I’m air tight
And they’re like, don’t get it twisted youngster
They ain’t even tryin’ to have a fair fight
Chasin the chickens, n’ I kick it I do it err night
Flickin’ the bic n just hittin the wicked the air like
Thick with the smoke and it’s 22.5 farenheit
Them bitches is trippin’ they tryin’ to get me like a parasite


Chorus by Ria:
The son with the father’s gun
A sure shot son of a gun
The son with the father’s gun

Boy that itchy trigger finger got you good
Yeah that itchy trigger finger shot you



Cheney:
I’m the epitome of not being given the same chances
Gimme a Blank canvas… doc
When it rains Im not the one doing the same dances
Biting they heads off like some Prayin mantis
And I bet they ain't no more Blank glances
Party all night if the party is hype
Hoggin the mic like Im gon off the white
Part of me’s like
It’s time to throw the towel in
Other half of me like a rabid dog growlin
Battin a thousand
Yeah my house empty
But with a pen Im Da Vinci
Leonardo with my collar tucked
Game be polished up
Dames they holla… but
Matter of fact go head and holla slut
This thang need swallowed up
A couple of white boys who steady rap correct
In your stereo at your neck with that mass effect

Chorus by Ria:
The son with the father’s gun
A sure shot son of a gun
The son with the father’s gun

Boy that itchy trigger finger got you good
Yeah that itchy trigger finger shot you good