| 歌曲 | Gunnfinga |
| 歌手 | Rascalz |
| 歌手 | Kardinal Offishall |
| 专辑 | Global Warning |
| 作曲 : Bahamonde, Harrow, Jacobs | |
| Lick shots and bust yo caps | |
| Put it up, where your gunfinga's at? [x2] [VERSE 1: Red 1] | |
| Aiyo, gunfinga the tool, against the great, no rule | |
| Plow! Shots are bust and we notorious | |
| Thus thrust, | |
| Red'll defend the rugged and raw (Cause we-a rudeboy) | |
| So hit em with the hardcore stuff | |
| Cause my glock's not enough, sometimes a man fi get cuffed | |
| Handled ruff, we're minded too dangerous | |
| Ain't no messin with nobody less they puff with us | |
| Cause we keep to ourselves and the pounds we puff | |
| So let it burn, rockin the chalice, take turns | |
| Red 1 not concerned, | |
| I got em a-fi learn | |
| Bout respect due, yo respect a-fi earn | |
| Big up to | |
| Rascal Crew, foundation stands firm | |
| Fear none, think that we done, we just-a come | |
| Gunfinga cocked in-a di air, make it bum | |
| Bo! That's for my ghetto people | |
| Cause the world's unfair, never was equal | |
| Lick a bo! | |
| That's for | |
| Babylon pon patrol | |
| Cause Van | |
| City cats got tons of hydro | |
| And there's one more that we gotta let go | |
| And that's the one that we lick off in-a di po-po | |
| I test the empire, then we royal gumbo | |
| Many guns for hire when your regime crumble | |
| Then raise my gunfinga in the air, born again | |
| Wave it like a flag, world domination pon dem | |
| No fear, hands in-a di air | |
| Bust your gunfinga, wave it like ya don't care | |
| Bust hot lickshots in-a di atmosphere | |
| There's a party to rock, that's why the | |
| Rascalz are here [x2] [VERSE 2: Kardinal Offishall] | |
| Let me see your gunfinga, but hold your gun down, please | |
| Yo, don't bust no shots, so me and my niggas could rock | |
| Dem call me | |
| Mr. Kardinal (Dem call me Mr. Red 1) | |
| Come follow me, holler me out if you know what | |
| I'm talkin about | |
| My niggas walkin about, big up the ghetto gutter guns | |
| Street presidents, slum residents | |
| And all my niggas on they two feet with street sense | |
| And more than two cents in-a dem pocket | |
| I rock a verse for keeps, run my lyrics in-a di mix | |
| I bet he love it, respect, big up your chest | |
| Kardinal and | |
| Rascalz gwan make you feel hi-i-igh | |
| Killin you softly with no lye | |
| While your toe taps | |
| I'm breakin your back over my hi-hat | |
| Kick drum is makin you numb, snare snap is strapped | |
| To bust back for every red-eyed nigga on the attack | |
| So when I'm comin through, you cannot stop me on the go | |
| For every nigga that clack-clacks, the | |
| Figure IV gotta be gold | |
| Like that | |
| Lick shots, bust yo caps | |
| Put it up, where your gunfinga's at? [x2] [VERSE 3: Red One] | |
| Aiyo, the big gun spark, light up the dark (Yes, mire) 360 degrees, the place on fire | |
| Feel the heat, yo, either surrender or retreat | |
| Cause Kemo don't give a fuck, he put some fire in the beat | |
| Gave me the trigger to watch me blow them off they feet (Plow! Bust your gunfinga, cause respect compete) | |
| The all Massive | |
| Van Crew, soldier men, too | |
| You rudeboys in-a di dance, dedicated to you | |
| And all the young guns up, they past they curfew (Big up di sexy gal crew, cause dem bust shots too) | |
| Sketels and workings just to make a debut | |
| Keep di clip in-a di g-string, ready to move | |
| So what you do is put your hand in-a di air | |
| And you bust your gunfinga, wave it like ya don't care | |
| I swear, one love to my people out there | |
| You we salute, lickin off shots in the air |
| zuò qǔ : Bahamonde, Harrow, Jacobs | |
| Lick shots and bust yo caps | |
| Put it up, where your gunfinga' s at? x2 VERSE 1: Red 1 | |
| Aiyo, gunfinga the tool, against the great, no rule | |
| Plow! Shots are bust and we notorious | |
| Thus thrust, | |
| Red' ll defend the rugged and raw Cause wea rudeboy | |
| So hit em with the hardcore stuff | |
| Cause my glock' s not enough, sometimes a man fi get cuffed | |
| Handled ruff, we' re minded too dangerous | |
| Ain' t no messin with nobody less they puff with us | |
| Cause we keep to ourselves and the pounds we puff | |
| So let it burn, rockin the chalice, take turns | |
| Red 1 not concerned, | |
| I got em afi learn | |
| Bout respect due, yo respect afi earn | |
| Big up to | |
| Rascal Crew, foundation stands firm | |
| Fear none, think that we done, we justa come | |
| Gunfinga cocked ina di air, make it bum | |
| Bo! That' s for my ghetto people | |
| Cause the world' s unfair, never was equal | |
| Lick a bo! | |
| That' s for | |
| Babylon pon patrol | |
| Cause Van | |
| City cats got tons of hydro | |
| And there' s one more that we gotta let go | |
| And that' s the one that we lick off ina di popo | |
| I test the empire, then we royal gumbo | |
| Many guns for hire when your regime crumble | |
| Then raise my gunfinga in the air, born again | |
| Wave it like a flag, world domination pon dem | |
| No fear, hands ina di air | |
| Bust your gunfinga, wave it like ya don' t care | |
| Bust hot lickshots ina di atmosphere | |
| There' s a party to rock, that' s why the | |
| Rascalz are here x2 VERSE 2: Kardinal Offishall | |
| Let me see your gunfinga, but hold your gun down, please | |
| Yo, don' t bust no shots, so me and my niggas could rock | |
| Dem call me | |
| Mr. Kardinal Dem call me Mr. Red 1 | |
| Come follow me, holler me out if you know what | |
| I' m talkin about | |
| My niggas walkin about, big up the ghetto gutter guns | |
| Street presidents, slum residents | |
| And all my niggas on they two feet with street sense | |
| And more than two cents ina dem pocket | |
| I rock a verse for keeps, run my lyrics ina di mix | |
| I bet he love it, respect, big up your chest | |
| Kardinal and | |
| Rascalz gwan make you feel hiiigh | |
| Killin you softly with no lye | |
| While your toe taps | |
| I' m breakin your back over my hihat | |
| Kick drum is makin you numb, snare snap is strapped | |
| To bust back for every redeyed nigga on the attack | |
| So when I' m comin through, you cannot stop me on the go | |
| For every nigga that clackclacks, the | |
| Figure IV gotta be gold | |
| Like that | |
| Lick shots, bust yo caps | |
| Put it up, where your gunfinga' s at? x2 VERSE 3: Red One | |
| Aiyo, the big gun spark, light up the dark Yes, mire 360 degrees, the place on fire | |
| Feel the heat, yo, either surrender or retreat | |
| Cause Kemo don' t give a fuck, he put some fire in the beat | |
| Gave me the trigger to watch me blow them off they feet Plow! Bust your gunfinga, cause respect compete | |
| The all Massive | |
| Van Crew, soldier men, too | |
| You rudeboys ina di dance, dedicated to you | |
| And all the young guns up, they past they curfew Big up di sexy gal crew, cause dem bust shots too | |
| Sketels and workings just to make a debut | |
| Keep di clip ina di gstring, ready to move | |
| So what you do is put your hand ina di air | |
| And you bust your gunfinga, wave it like ya don' t care | |
| I swear, one love to my people out there | |
| You we salute, lickin off shots in the air |