| You know you done fucked up?
|
| You know you done fucked up, don’t ya?
|
| Nigga you really fucked up
|
| We on a muthafuckin mission
|
| I’m ridin dirty with my TRU muthafuckas
|
| Fiend, Steady Mobbin', C-Murder in this bitch
|
| Retaliation is a must
|
| Dumpin rounds on my muthafuckin adversaries
|
| Nigga, nigga ridin dirty for revenge
|
| With my friends, I’m on a caper
|
| Ready to kill 'em, if I see 'em
|
| Fuck alarm, hold my paper
|
| I’m a rider, so I leave 'em where I left 'em
|
| When I creep, niggas sleep
|
| And they ain’t restin til they deep up in the concrete
|
| Jungle with them slangers, with them bangers and them hustlers
|
| With them killers, smokin woo and makin deals with my TRU niggas
|
| Fiend had some yay, so we flipped it on the block
|
| Steady Mobbin' flew from Cali so we put 'em up on the spot
|
| Servin dub sacks and flippers, fifty shots and quarter bags
|
| Raisin riches no matter week, servin keys out paper bags
|
| And hustlin hard, countin money by the sack
|
| Watch my back, niggas jack
|
| Sweet revenge, counter attack up in my 'lac
|
| Sippin Hennesy and chronic, I’m the tweak for some magic
|
| Rollin the window, nigga, it’s him so pistol playin bout to have it
|
| Fuckin bullets gots no name nigga you name is on this one
|
| Ridin dirty with my TRU bitches so nigga on a mission
|
| (Lines echo in background) X 4
|
| In on a mission, ridin dirty with my TRU thugs
|
| Retaliation, dumpin rounds, with no love
|
| Fiend, my reason to gunplay
|
| Loadin my chopper right up the one way
|
| Wishin we facin a dead end
|
| So I could show how this gun spray
|
| Just one damn word, that’s all I desire
|
| So I could bend these niggas back like chicken wire
|
| Spittin fire, mobbin, s’on when them bullets get to pourin
|
| (…) get my adrenalin goin
|
| I ain’t ignorin, no problems, no worries baby
|
| I severed the crusher, and buried my (…)
|
| Over the dresser, Fiend the trigga my lesser
|
| Gon test ya, with a season to kill
|
| And catch me celebratin across the battlefield
|
| Loco, this is the deal, let’s put the gun
|
| To the small of his neck, we got caught up and blast
|
| Until there’s nothing left, boy
|
| I thought some more niggas kept, what? |
| what?
|
| Cause I ain’t facin prison
|
| Exercising my right to exorcism
|
| Completed my mission, huh?
|
| By lettin the land just listen
|
| Cause they the reason my lil homie ain’t livin
|
| So, we on a mission
|
| (…) the cleaner, alias Saddam, nigga
|
| (What's up there?) Cold cop killers
|
| Now it’s really on (What's up fool?)
|
| Being crooked, we do it dirty, (We doing it!)
|
| C-Murder and Fiend (There they go!)
|
| We dump the fifty round magazine
|
| Locin and mobbin, til it’s clean (Make sure it’s clean)
|
| Hooked up with the colonel, and the billy, cause I need cream
|
| Fifteen five, made twenty five, six hummer size (Nigga!)
|
| Muthafuckas died, (Nigga!) all in one night (They die!)
|
| (A lot of these lines are overlapped by screams
|
| Gunshots, etc. Hard to understand…)
|
| Pulled the trigga on my nigga (Not my nigga, damn!)
|
| As the forty caliber shell, blew up in the neck
|
| Twice in the head, he was dead 'fore his body hit the ground
|
| (Damn dog, don’t go nigga!)
|
| Bitches scream, nigga (…)
|
| Pull up next to the bodies, I was runnin
|
| My dog’s head was blew off
|
| I’m bustin hella (?) (BUCK, BUCK, BUCK)
|
| Hit the driver’s side window, as they crash into a pole
|
| (…), with a few left in the clip
|
| Some for the driver, the passenger
|
| And the rest of the trigger men |