| They want problems; |
| soon them want me waxed, contracts on my ass
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| It’s comin from the pen, they say I owe 'em cash
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| Dwellin off the past and they need it fast
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| But what they fai’lize is I’ll be quick to blast
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| Die hard cold blooded killer all about my work
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| Dressed up like a female in a mini-skirt
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| Specialize in doin dirt — shootin niggas in the shirt
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| Put the pistol in his mouth and make it hurt, ooh
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| Cutlass, guzzlin down a 40-ounce bottle of Swiss malt liquor brewsky
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| Talkin to a cutie standin outside the movie theater
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| Sittin on top of the hood of my Cutlass
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| Smokin on a non-filter pink pack colored edition cigarette
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| Clove-family affiliated cancer stick lookin +GANESH+ beadie
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| What the fuck? |
| W here’s the peace treaty?
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| Full of my Wheaties, yes indeedy, M-16's don’t shoot no beebees
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| Programmed to amputate anything that gets off in my way
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| Then I put them same size left over bullets up in my A. K
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| I can’t wait 'til we bump heads
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| It on, on sight day and night no matter what I’m dumpin'
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| I’m tryin to see you niggas 'bout somethin' (2x)
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| «I'm heated, them niggas cheated» — 3X (in background)
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| We had a meetin', shit 'posed to been squashed (3x)
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| Shit was 'posed to been squashed
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| I’ve got a hunch; |
| meet me at the Olive Garden spot let’s do lunch
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| Fool and dem tried to pass the buck and set us up for lumps
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| Sons of bitches must think we some chumps
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| Time to break out the pipe bombs and the pumps
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| Nigga fuck stress and pull lick, we kick in the door with full clips
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| Out of Magnums packin when we blast 'em we all out for the chips
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| FOol, 40-Water never slip, saw the niggas quick and then dipped
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| Before we spark the pipe bombs, and blow them niggas shit to
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| Side-ways up off they block, poppin gears in a big block
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| All out non stop riders until our casket drop
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| We smashin, blastin on any, while I remember many
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| Dash and blastin double two-three's, fuck the enemies
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| One of my big dudes up out HPA shot me a kite today
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| He up in Pelican Bay three striker
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| Doin 25 with a L cause he won’t tell on one of his
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| High-ranked dudes in position who wears a diaper
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| With the shit stacked on the side of his waist
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| Blood splattered all on the windshield wiper
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| Somebody tried to take his face — caught him up in his Viper
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| Loose as a goose ass out tried to down him like a sniper
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| Hyperventilated started havin' seizures
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| No feelings in his legs, arms, or his sneakers
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| We stand tall, like Manute Bol with bigger balls than RuPaul
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| Strapped with 4−4's down to execute all y’all
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| Don’t want to see us niggas on a mission
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| 150 round drum 45 slugs bitten
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| No remorse hit by the hardcore fo' sho'
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| Leave him stuck in his front seat
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| 70 rounds through his front window
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| Ain’t no fuckin' with G’s
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| Fill 'em up to they neck from they knees
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| Leave 'em dyin' in the street as we escape on they goldeeze |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song It's On On Sight (Feat. E-40, C-Bo), artist - C-Bo. Album song C-Bo's Best Appearances '91-'99, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп