| Pickin’up the murder scripts
|
| So come and dish it for the road
|
| And the code of the motherfuckin’Triple Six sitcom, ugh
|
| Makin’sketchin’the infetion from the rich and come along
|
| For the mark on your arm it’s the income
|
| Ball on to the next century, misery
|
| Scarecrow got a murder that is goin’down in history
|
| A train from the north
|
| A train from the south
|
| There isn’t
|
| But they all collided
|
| All the niggas died
|
| Cause the green and pride
|
| Cause I will persue you
|
| Screw you
|
| Put a slug through you the voodoo bruetaly
|
| Ride I’m seventh of the sign
|
| I’m the sniper you can’t find
|
| And my slug made of shiny jewelry
|
| Mr. Boogie Man, Fee Fie Fo Fum
|
| I smell some money in his hand, take his side arm
|
| I don’t give a fuck about your side
|
| You can be from L.A., Miami, or the N-Y
|
| We gonna take you to the Triple Six club house
|
| We got a plot for you already dug out
|
| I’m gonna run outside man
|
| And pop these thangs
|
| Wanna wanna come play in a black reign
|
| Hearses drivin round your house, voodoo hex
|
| Voodoo dolls restin on your bed throwin devil sets
|
| Sick sadistic, nothin up my sleeve
|
| Money boost blazin’quick just call me crow
|
| For he’s blaaay!
|
| Crow got a lust for the devilish bust
|
| And the Triple Six crush
|
| and a touch like Malachi
|
| Rollin’every spot
|
| lookin for yo’ass and we high
|
| With the infrerred sewn in his flesh
|
| And like some fuckin’disco lights
|
| We gonna cut ya into itty bitty parts
|
| Meet me on your side of town
|
| Where they keep the graveyards
|
| Crush blasted rest lots of trash
|
| Empty shells cracked
|
| Cell City streets, black males found in blood trails
|
| Ain’t enough mail for all y’all to prevail
|
| So that we an put to sleep and they smeel while they pale
|
| Sippin on the salty wines of your sweet softy blood
|
| My name is Scarecrow, bitch you’re welcome to my club
|
| Chorus (2x) -fade on 2nd- |