| See you know us nigga, we run up in ya house
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| Run up in ya room and put the gun up in ya mouth
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| Next thing you know, you just one up in a pouch
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| That’s what you fuckin' wid when you come up in the South
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| I spit slugs, I be off them drugs kick it wid thug niggas
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| Plug niggas, with blood on the rug
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| Nigga we got gut splitters and shovels we gravediggers
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| Wid troublesome ways and we bubble some days and some days
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| We shovel ya grave and we wrinkle ya page
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| We got shooters on the team like the Lakers we post up
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| And then bake 'em wid the toaster
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| From long distance or close up
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| We send 'em heat rocks, put 'em up under the sheetrock
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| Cheap talk, makin' all the streets hot
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| With the heat from the Glock
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| And I pop holes in ya Chevy block
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| And I pop those if ya ready or not get set go
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| Burn you with the petrol, wet those niggas wid cold showers
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| Crept on them niggas and they laid out wid gun powder
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| That’s one route I’m full of them scams
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| Pull and advance through your livin' room window
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| Then I’m leavin' wid blood on my hands
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| I’m a nympho, murder ya kinfolks two to the temple
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| Lay 'em on the ground from the five pound it’s that simple
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| You know me nigga, I stay up in the cut
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| Every chance I get I get way up in a slut
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| Every once in a while I gotta touch a nigga up
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| So I hit the bomb and split ya palm wid paper cuts
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| I’m a oven when it comes to this thuggin' I spit fire
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| Chop ya lil rhymes to bits, 'til I’m tired
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| Of the ecstacy and 'yac and kool-aid nigga I’m wired
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| I’m a sicc nigga I rip out ya bottom teeth wid the pliers
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| And I’m tired, of the rumors I disconnect, the tuner
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| I hit ya neck wid the ruger and get respect this a shooter
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| And ya knew the, shit like this, fool you better back up
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| Tuck niggas up like buttercups somebody better get yo stuff
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| Cause it’s get bacc time
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| Eye for an eye tooth for tooth
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| This ain’t just no rhyme
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| Somebody gotta die and that’s the truth
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| Ya shouldn’ta spit that line
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| Now look at ya hidin' in ya coupe
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| Cause it’s get bacc time
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| It ain’t gonna be us so it’s gotta be you
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| It’s like four plus four nigga
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| This shit easy as addition
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| To get back niggas and have 'em missin'
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| Wha-what what to strip wack niggas and have 'em drippin'
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| Plugged for crossin' love when my thug bring y’all the endin'
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| Please believe it, it happens daily
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| Make bitch niggas have my babies (then what?)
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| Fuck 'em in the ass give 'em rabies
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| Tuck 'em in the grass I’m off the shady O-eighty
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| Wid the salt shaker tryna eat niggas up like
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| Stanley Dean bacon killer slash make me shellin' out
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| She loves me loves me not, slugs be hot
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| Run up in yo million dollar spot
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| And get the, drugs and Glocks and I leave the
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| Bloody rug spots and I get the
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| Money powder and the ice and I’m from the
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| Nutty Blocc hit the lights and I’m 'bout to
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| Get the kids and the wife and I’m 'bout to
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| Hold 'em hostage if I don’t get what I want
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| Cut 'em up in little sausages, wreckless how Lynch is
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| You want no vengeance, my shit spit fine lines in yo extensions
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| It grips like a tiger so it ain’t no sensin'
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| Tryna get away I been dyin' to get a day to touch you up
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| I mean hire motherfuckers that’ll fuck you up
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| Wire motherfuckers all for the wet
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| I be shootin' that twelve guage offa the steps
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| Nigga off wid ya neck, ever since then, plottin' ya death
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| Get caught in your Lex take a quick wind get shot in the chest
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| Get the cops and detectives, cause ever since then
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| Nothin’ll rest 'til they gettin' locked in the pen
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| Cockin' a tec, poppin' the gin, quick to hide 'til ya set
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| See I’m at it again not 'til ya sweatin'
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| It’s not under ya neck it’s over ya head
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| It’s over ya dead stood over ya bed pointin' a tec
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| Four to ya head jumped in the Nova and fled
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| I’m like a motherfuckin' gangsta
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| Bitch ass nigga I cut off ya middle finger
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| Hook (x1)
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| Like D-M-X I’m a ruff ryder, leave ya tied up
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| Wid ya nuts fried up
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| I’m the nigga that creep when it’s dark in the sky
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| Parkin' the ride and then dartin' inside
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| Ya spot wid automatic toys nigga this sparkin' a riot
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| Good shit better hide behind ya boys
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| Nigga add gas to the flames then
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| Blast at ya main land, switch ya whole game plan
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| Leavin' bloody stains and wid enough nigga nuts and guts and
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| (Where?) Bodies in the Hudson I keep it bustin' and bustin'
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| I’m the medicine man like Robitussin
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| Hold ya huffin' and puffin' before I
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| Split ya tongue wid the jack knife better act right
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| And attack right now if you wanna get the Hung I split ya lung
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| If you lookin' for some of that sicc shit this the one
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| If you lookin' for some of that shoot 'em up kill 'em up
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| Better get ya gun, young ass rappers
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| I’m like R. Kelly I fuck the young in this rap game
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| Cum on ya belly cum on ya tongue
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| Shit I’m one of the ones blowin' you up eatin' you up and then
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| Throwin' you up knowin' you sucked big fat nut nigga
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| Hook (x1) |