| That motherfucker kept sniffin for goods
|
| Put the plastic in his mouth the back of his neck left
|
| And you don’t know nuthin but the killa gotta away
|
| Before 4.30 in the morning I’m gone in the 6-Tre
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| Wit the windows up, must have had gin in the cup
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| Cuz I’m swervin in the fast-lane gotta be spinnin em up
|
| (X-caliba *echo*)
|
| It all started when I twisted the lid of the Olde E And see E-A-R-double-O-E… … … (??)
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| Where my motherfuckering siccmade jacked at Cuz that’s the only one I could use
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| When I saw you at the war yeah when I lifted you out your shoes
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| It was the pressure from the twenty game (the twenty game)
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| Felt like it could split your chest whide open wit it Well nigga you should when I’m round talkin that shit
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| Bout the nigga that’s my kin-folks
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| Should knew the wheel while you was givin up that info…
|
| …mation, I’ll be of that Parry Mason
|
| When I hit em all up, creep em all up, kill em all up, fill em all up Real deal, dig a ditch give em hit a licc then take the grip
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| Put em in the back of the Cadillac show em how my Mini-Mac gonna act
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| My tactics is lethal
|
| Leave the whole town hella smokey
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| like that band that steppin over dead people
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| It’s like that, and you wouldn’t know it cuz I’ma cool ass mufucca
|
| Then dump on a gang of succas
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| as I wait for the city to heat up like a Hot Pepper
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| Gotta whole load fulla Evian
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| and a trunck fulla FO take no’s and I can’t let go Catch you at yo show slippin
|
| Hoes trippin, rows rippin in the street after I heat my heat of
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| I’m of the hook with this siccmade shit, straight made nigga
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| Fuck it, pass me the straight lace liquor to the face nigga
|
| Off the Thunder Burger and Kool-Aid and O 8
|
| Easy on the liver still make me kill a nigga
|
| Split you head like a pineapple
|
| Die natural!
|
| Five at your dome send em home in a pinebox
|
| Lift you out your sox
|
| Pay attention to the Glock
|
| Half pass a niggas ass where aimen at the grass take suitcase fulla cash and
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| mash
|
| 16 in the clip crumble the urb roll a sliff bout to whatch you brain split in half
|
| Bloody bath watter, infried nigga nuts and bones locaded at home I think him
|
| name is Tyrone
|
| But you know…
|
| That motherfucker kept sniffin for goods
|
| Put the plastic in his mouth the back of his neck left
|
| And you don’t know nuthin but the killa gotta away
|
| Before 4.30 in the morning I’m gone in the 6-Tre
|
| Wit the windows up, must have had gin in the cup
|
| Cuz I’m swervin in the fast-lane gotta be spinnin em up
|
| (X-caliba *echo*)
|
| You can call me black Sadam Huseain
|
| Pump St Idees through my wein ass nigga
|
| You can see me on the southside of the street
|
| Man remembered by the ((opposet)) nigga that flod the city
|
| Get ready for some pretty if you sicc like Frank Nitty
|
| Sucked blood from my momas tittie — instead of milk
|
| Played murda muzicc in my tape deck — instead of Silkk
|
| Enden up killen one of them motherfuckers
|
| So fuck them hoes, they like Grim
|
| havin killin niggas like they gots to go With the 380M — got high til seven
|
| Jump in what you call it headin throughwards heaven, whit my 50 sacc of some shit, that’ll make you get there
|
| About 11:30 with your T-shirt dirty,
|
| I’m worthy strapped like James as ventured in this faulty game
|
| In a mainframe, that I bucked in ruff terrain, then hit the plane
|
| 15 guts on a tripple beam scale nigga
|
| acual contact from the strap that I hale nigga
|
| That motherfucker kept sniffin for goods
|
| Put the plastic in his mouth the back of his neck left
|
| And you don’t know nuthin but the killa gotta away
|
| Before 4.30 in the morning I’m gone in the 6-Tre
|
| Wit the windows up, must have had gin in the cup
|
| Cuz I’m swervin in the fast-lane gotta be spinnin em up
|
| (X-caliba *echo*)
|
| They got this motherfucker twisted up And from the sound of the barrle I got hella motherfuckers runnin up What should I do about these fuckin fleas?
|
| Give em all A-1 and put they seeds in they weed
|
| Figga a way out this nigga I know you got me in file
|
| But I got you on scanner so plan anotha way (anotha way)
|
| Told me it was (?Coda steady?)
|
| But I catch you slippin like pimpin
|
| and shake bankin like (?Trail Leonard?)
|
| Hit your mind workin these swine |
| tripp time get’s deepa as you meat the Grim reapa
|
| in the form of a man double M 24 5 got your brains leaking I’m peakin
|
| That’s why these nigga wanna rip keep me
|
| I’m rollin squeeky and what you want call it witta .45 in my pocket and I’m a young alcoholic
|
| Like P-Folks I had to make it happen
|
| Sacramentos most wanted I gotta keep packin, cuz of that
|
| My favorite cousin just go four years
|
| And when his little brotha died he showed me no tears
|
| your point is you get deep as the ocean
|
| Take a shiesty niggas blood and rub it on like lotion
|
| It was like: once apon a time a long time ago
|
| I was sticken 9 milis in a pussy hole
|
| Get of the Ol 8 old Murda moe then i gotta go to a spot
|
| when they don’t know I’m the leath nigga given up my info
|
| That motherfucker kept sniffin for goods
|
| Put the plastic in his mouth the back of his neck left
|
| And you don’t know nuthin but the killa gotta away
|
| Before 4.30 in the morning I’m gone in the 6-Tre
|
| Wit the windows up, must have had gin in the cup
|
| Cuz I’m swervin in the fast-lane gotta be spinnin em up
|
| (X-caliba *echo*) |