Lyrics True Crime Remix - Bishop Lamont

True Crime Remix

Welcome to the city of killas, movie makers, in drug dealers
Big bad Los Angeles!
— Land of the scandeles!
Hit a thug with a slug — make him turn to vandalis
Gettin money religious home of three strike life sentence!
Hittin fences on crime sprees!
— Shootin' at police!
Cat that’ll drive-by anonymous shootinize!
Anonymous hood fights!
Turf wars every night not even wood to conquer!
Blistin pistols is poppin'!
In we under the microscope!
Distribute-disputin'-dope
In-the-city-niggas-is-shitty
Snatch-you-outta-ya-Bentley-it-was-erotic-come-get-me!
Merotic-in-killas-with'-me
In the back of the bucket pump it
Broadday light f*ck-it
In-a-murda-wagon-bangin'-on-sumthin'!
— Skert!
I puts in work!
— Leavin yo hood hurt!
By all means necessary
WestCoast legendary!
I’m gray on the front line
Bare witness to «True Crime»!
Gimme your gun!
Gimme your knife!
(TRUE, TRUE CRIMES!)
It’s True Crimes, better run for your life!
Hide your kids!
Hold your wife!
(TRUE CRIIIIMES!)
It’s True Crimes, better touch your ice!
Cut your purse!
Stash your cash!
(TRUE CRIIIIMES!)
It’s True Crimes, I’m about to blast!
(oh!)
Call the cops and lock your doors (TRUE CRIIIIMES!)
It’s True Crimes, and I’m taking yours!
Shit!
— Ain't nothin' left to spit
I-done-kicked-enough-shit-to-get-the-world-on-my-dick!
I’m-Houdini-in-a-Beanie got that «Magic Stick»
Stay in bikinis eeny meeny let me take my pick.
(whoo!)
It’s like Memph', Jay and Missy yo!
«Is That Your Chick»
The-way-I'm-pimpin'-in-this-game-it'll-make-you-sick!
I’m in the thing with wood grain with the top to flip
While your faggot ass is riding on a bike like dick!
(SCREECH!) — This ain’t no game
Activision-cataclysm-bringin'-extra-ammunition, (blat!)
You-can-really-end-up-missin'-if-you-freakin'-with-my-mission (uh-huh!)
Yo-we-meetin'-to-more-dishin-your-new — beautician or not!
Drew dissin' so!
— You listen and pay close attention OK!
Before I go from rap-to-killin'-milla (whyy? whyy?)
Gorilla-the-Mack-milla's-spill-ya
Don’t-get-me-wreckin'-shit-like-Mecca-God-feel-ya, yeah!
I’m from a place where they smoke sherm, in shoot dice in wear weave caps
Or drink car in cuttin' sin.
— Naw don’t make back!
Hub caps across the neck
Drinkin' tall cans of coke in crossin out ya set!
You can call me a hatta!
— I'm probably one!
I ain’t neva had shit that’s why I’m palmin' a gun!
I’ll rape you for every thing the gum in ya mouth
All I had this mornin was some straight crumbs from the couch!
So call me the caller back
I toss slugs give you wings like a quaters back
Shit!
— I'm from the place where they raise pits, in Dickie suits,
in curl — kits
In drink a henasse till we Earl in — shit!
A WestCoast representative with da rag in ma pocket with the blue penalten!
Let me let you know who it is
B.L.A.C.K!
Hahahahah!
Take you here!
— Don't let me catch you in na streets
If I catch you in na streets, I’m a wet you with da heats.
(whoo!)
I’m not gon' step to you or speak
Or give you a fake pound or bless you with a speech!
(So chill!)
Dude we in a Snoop DeVille!
Raised up right corner, drop left three wheel!
(I said chill)
You know the crew is I’ll
Track like a group on 'em thangs swoop at da wheel!
They say the verses is magic
When you above average you mergein in traffic!
In I don’t stop so get get
Spit it fa critics ma digits opposite of midgets!
(whoo)
Whos ya main man ta flow?
I never went Hollywood, I changed ma flow!
(oh!)
In took ya places niggas scared ta go
In as soon as they find me I ain’t there no mo ya know!
You wanna talk about the new breed in what’s really goin' down
Oh the game ain’t over, baby!
Swoop got a bangin track!
Game just started!
Bright!
Holla at me!
True Crimes!
True Crime!