Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Clock Work, artist - Mac Mall. Album song Illegal Business? 2000, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.1998
Record label: Young Black Brotha
Song language: English
Clock Work |
Yeah doe |
Names was changed to protect the guilty |
They say that will power is the shield of our lives |
To defense us in this world, as I’m waitin on the coup d’etat |
Machine gun in my hand, every thought is unholy |
Sold my soul several times for this mighty dollar |
Now here I stand again in the same predicament |
Finna hit the system where it hurts |
Pull off this high-powered shit like clock work |
First victim make a move, ride in a hearse |
Word up, for bank robbery you gotta have big nuts |
But that ain’t enough, you must have brains |
The penitentiary is full of the fools who tried to take that risk |
Only vets live to rob the game, and I’m one of the chosen few |
Who ain’t scared to get they fetti, but smart enough to stick and move |
Run in this bitch, gettin mani for the fuckin loot |
And when I get away, no clues, no proofs |
Desperado, I play a tune on my fully auto |
Conduct a symphony on the gestapo |
They never take me alive |
Drinkin orange juice and genocide |
And down to die in this process of pullin a heist |
If need be, I’m in the low with the turf O.G.'s |
Who go about to link nationally |
Go in it for the risk and for the money |
But we all fiend for the green |
It’s like a pit, get his first taste of blood, he never be the same |
Now that’s realer than this gat in my hand |
Or the grill on my main man |
As he run back our plan |
And all the savages listen, it sound easy |
Like takin candy from a infant, a pieace of cake |
But we all know it ain’t that way |
I know it’s wrong, but I say a little prayer before I run up in this bank |
'Holy Father, don’t make a citizen misbehave |
Get brave, or I’ma have to down him with this cane |
And if the square behind the counter don’t push the alarm |
Then I swear I won’t do no harm |
And may my money not be laced with paint bombs |
So I won’t have to black out and spray some |
And these dogs I’m with, they won’t say nothin |
But if they do, then let these snitch niggas die sufferin' |
Amen, now let this hold-em-up shit begin |
A couple of corners we bend |
See the bank, hop out and blend in |
Barge through the Savings & Loans do' |
Bustin them choppers to let em know |
When we say go |
The security guard, he ain’t no problemo |
Cause for 4.25 he ain’t tryin to die |
And the people, they just wanna make it home |
And not get dumped on, scared as hell they cry and moan |
And even though the camera record I make a leap like Jordan |
In a black ski mask |
On the counter, «Square, fill up the bag |
Do what I ask |
Or feel the wrath of a fully blast |
Come here, bitch» |
That’s when the lady said, «Mister, I just wanna live |
I got a husband, two kids, a dog and a picket fence |
And I’ll do what you say, just don’t empty the clip |
She start fumblin with the keys |
I’m like «Hoe, you wanna breathe?» |
She said, «Oh, I got it», gate, she unlocked it |
Safe was smooth open, damn near start slobbin |
My peoples had the crowd face down on the ground |
I’m in the vault grabbin hundreds in pounds |
Fillin up my duffle bag with dinero |
Stuffin it with mail, till it can’t fit no mo' |
Bounced outta there like 'come on' |
But didn’t know it was a undercover pig spread eagle on the flo' |
Saw him reachin for his hideaway gat |
That’s when I blew his cap back |
My crimeys, yeah, they follow my lead |
Leave the bank lookin like Swiss cheese |
Then we Audi, 500 g’s |
But not yet scott free |
See, the hardest part is your retreat |
Cause the rollers could be waitin outside least 50 cars deep |
But we was greeted by the getaway car and got far |
Further from the crime scene |
Like some cowobys ridin on they trusty steed |
Into the sunset, like we never did a thang |
Check it out |
You see, the moral of the story is: crime do pay |
And with the fetti come the time you face |
And every nigga hollerin «hog!» |
ain’t on the same page |
Sucker get his pennies pulled, he start namin names |
And with the judge handin out all day |
It ain’t no tellin what your homey’ll say |
Peep the real, punk, this ain’t no game |
They givin niggas 30 years and some change |
But my hogs must eat, so we hit them banks |
Peep the muthafuckin heist |