| they say pussy and paper is poetry, power, and pistols
|
| plottin' on murderin' motherfuckers before they get you
|
| picturin' pitiful punk niggas coppin' pleas
|
| puffin' weed as i position myself to clock gs
|
| my enemies scatter in suicidal situations
|
| never the witness to wicked shit that they was facin'
|
| pockets is packed with presidents, pursue your riches
|
| evadin' the playa-hatin tricks, while hittin switches
|
| bitches is badmouthin', cuz ballin' motherfuckers is bold
|
| but trust me holms, the game should be sold
|
| sick of pscyhotic society, somebody save me
|
| addicted to drama, so even mama couldn’t raise me
|
| even the preacher and all my teachers couldn’t reach me
|
| i run in the streets and puffin' weed with my peeps
|
| i’m duckin' the cops, i hit the weed as i’m clutchin' my glock
|
| niggas is hot when i hit the block, but if i die tonite
|
| Chorus
|
| if i die 2nite
|
| if i die 2nite
|
| if i die 2nite
|
| 2nite's the night i get in some shit
|
| polishin' pistols, prepare for battle, pass the pump
|
| when i get to poppin', niggas is droppin', then they done
|
| callin' the coroner, come collect the fuckin' corpse
|
| he got hit by a killer, preoccupied with bein boss
|
| revenge is the method, whenever steppin', keep a weapon close
|
| adversaries will overdose over deadly notes
|
| jealous niggas and broke bitches equal packed jails
|
| hit the block and fill your pockets makin' crack sales
|
| picture perfection pursuin' paper with a passion
|
| visions of prison where all the pussies that i blasted
|
| running with criminal, individuals with no remorse
|
| try to stop me, my pistol possee using deadly force
|
| in my brain, all i can think about is fame
|
| the police know my name, a different game, ain’t a thing changed
|
| i’m seeing cemetary photos of my peers
|
| conversatin' like they still here, if i die tonite
|
| Chorus
|
| if i die 2nite
|
| scared to die nigga, is ya?
|
| if i die 2nite
|
| never fear, never will i fear
|
| if i die 2nite
|
| 2nite's the night i get in some shit
|
| pussy and paper is poetry, power, and pistols
|
| plottin on murderin motherfuckers before they get you
|
| pray to the heavens, .357s to the sky
|
| and i hope i’m forgiven for thug livin when i die
|
| i wonder if heaven’s got a ghetto for thug niggas
|
| a stress free life, and a spot for drug dealers
|
| pissin while practicin' how to pimp and be a player
|
| overdose of a dick while drinking liquor when i lay yah
|
| pistol-whippin any simps, for bein petrified and lame
|
| disrespecting the game, praying for punishment and pain
|
| going insane, never die, i live eternal, who shall i fear?
|
| don’t shed a tear for me nigga, i ain’t happy here
|
| i hope they bury me and send me to my rest
|
| headlines reading murdered to death, my last breath
|
| take a look, picture a crook, on his last stand
|
| motherfuckers don’t understand, if i die tonite
|
| Chorus
|
| nigga
|
| if i die 2nite
|
| no fear nigga, never worry
|
| if i die 2nite
|
| bury me a motherfuckin g, closed casket, fuck death
|
| if i die 2nite
|
| you know
|
| killer, killer, killer
|
| murder, murder, murder
|
| (repeat two lines til fade) |