| Die
|
| (Open your eyes, Hypnotize, Surprise muthafucka you gonna die)
|
| I… I close my eyes
|
| And am I surprised to see what’s on my mind
|
| I dwell in the spot that’s super hot
|
| Welcome to my area
|
| There’s a dead nigga on the block, call the cops
|
| Welcome to my area
|
| Makin fat knot, sellin chronic and them rocks
|
| Welcome to my area
|
| My hoggs drop dawgs and you will get dropped
|
| Welcome to my area
|
| It’s like this
|
| Past destruction, Consequences
|
| Repercussions, Sick intensions
|
| I blew a left tire on the gta, on I-15
|
| When the cops was chasing
|
| Made it to the exit ramp
|
| Feelin amped but I swerved and hit the curb
|
| My best chance was appear in Perry Ellis
|
| Two strike felon, So I’m runnin from the ghetto bird
|
| So they chased me out the Suburbs
|
| But it’s all good, cause I’m in my hood
|
| I know the dark places and the corners to cut like the back of my hand
|
| Like I know I should, Rough neck
|
| Oh shit, The ghetto bird
|
| Hit the fence and ripped a sleeve
|
| I’m in the backyard of Dynomite’s
|
| So I jumped in the dog house with his pit bull Hercules
|
| And let the bitches in the sky fly by
|
| I tapped his window
|
| He said,
|
| «What up nigg», What up
|
| «Get your ass in», Alright
|
| «We need to g», Okay
|
| «Hit this blunt», Alright
|
| «Sip this Henn», Yeah
|
| Rough Neck syndrome makes it hot in December
|
| Enough to jack Chris Cringle
|
| You could call me the ghetto grinch
|
| I keep it true with Doom
|
| 'Cause of my Siccmade family members, Uh
|
| I… I close my eyes
|
| And am I surprised to see what’s on my mind
|
| Die
|
| (Open your eyes, Hypnotize, Surprise muthafucka you gonna die)
|
| Die
|
| (nigga what’s up, Now you stuck with nuthin but bad luck)
|
| (nigga you fucked)
|
| I’m scorchin you
|
| Might have to torture you
|
| Cut your nuts with razor blades
|
| Make corpses' stew
|
| I like pork and meat
|
| I’m on your porch with heat
|
| You want the Triple Crown?
|
| I’ll cut off your horses' feet
|
| Yeah of course it’s me, The B-A-B-Y-K-I- Double L
|
| Right when you stomach swell
|
| Kick it with a size twelve
|
| You was a fluke, bitch
|
| I couldn’t let you keep your dottles off of two fifth’s
|
| It’s our little secret
|
| Put you in the bedroom, Rip your guts
|
| Bitch give me some head room, No nicks and cuts hoe
|
| I hate that shit, You know I rape that shit
|
| Call me super-dick
|
| They can’t find a cape that fits, So I don’t hate
|
| I like cumin in your throat straight
|
| You bitches is so fake, You could die a slow fate
|
| You get’s no breaks, Just nuts in your mouth
|
| Strap in your mouth and the Mac in your mouth, nigga
|
| I… I close my eyes
|
| And am I surprised to see what’s on my mind
|
| Die
|
| (Open your eyes, Hypnotize, Surprise muthafucka you gonna die)
|
| Die
|
| (nigga what’s up, Now you stuck with nuthin but bad luck)
|
| (nigga you fucked)
|
| Motion detector, Plague infector
|
| Knife dissector, Bone collector
|
| Hannibal Lecter like nigga
|
| With a lighter and a fire in my fuel injector
|
| I set 'em up, Knock 'em down
|
| Get my clown on, Cut 'em up with a frown on
|
| I gets down on niggaz
|
| Hell bound with the trigger
|
| I’m a killa lookin to make more than six figures
|
| Get twisted up like a French braid
|
| Rippin you up cause you bitch made
|
| Cin Sity and the sickest nigga from Siccmade (Lynch)
|
| Apocalypse Pit and Eklypss from Doomsday
|
| Us niggaz is crazy
|
| If you can imagine what goes through the mind of a sick muthafucka
|
| You gotta be a sick muthafucka to love us
|
| And understand not to fuck with us gut rippers, s*** dickers,
|
| Steel-toed boot butt kickers, rough niggaz
|
| Nuttin in bitches, throwin on the Dickies
|
| And leavin the pussy red and dead, Infected with the plague
|
| Understandin what I’m sayin?
|
| I’m Doom to the max
|
| Don’t make me have to break out the axe
|
| I done did it before, I’ll do it again
|
| Cut a nigga from his nuts to his appetite and grin
|
| It’s all sin
|
| Make you notify your next-of-kin
|
| Drinkin a hundred and eighty proof of liquor
|
| I get sicker, gets wicked
|
| Get your bitch and dick her like my name was Dirt Diggler
|
| Call me the grave digger
|
| I can do you when you awake, nigga
|
| Don’t even gotta hate, nigga
|
| Or I can do you with your eyes closed
|
| Clog your nostrils, nigga die slow |