| He stay at the third house, right beside the one with the gate, from the
|
| motherfuckin' corner
|
| I’m finna walk over there and knock on his door
|
| Nigga this is the health department
|
| Nigga we got your tests back
|
| You positive ho!
|
| Walk up to your house
|
| Knock on your door
|
| And blow your ass off
|
| Walk up to your house
|
| Knock on your door
|
| And blow your ass off
|
| Walk up to your house
|
| Knock on your door
|
| And blow your ass off
|
| Walk up to your house
|
| Knock on your door
|
| And blow your ass off
|
| Walk up to your house
|
| Knock on your door
|
| And blow your ass off
|
| Walk up to your house
|
| Knock on your door
|
| And blow your ass off
|
| Walk up to your house
|
| Knock on your door
|
| And blow your ass off
|
| Walk up to your house
|
| Knock on your door
|
| And blow your ass off
|
| Late last night lyin' in the bed, eyes red
|
| Thinkin' should I get these hoes, thinkin' should I cut they head?
|
| Should a nigga plan a hit or grab my pistol grip
|
| And take care my business cause they don’t know who they fuckin' with
|
| Call my nigga Project Pat cause I know he got my back
|
| Fuck writin' rhymes, this is real shit not a track
|
| Camouflage in the dark for the ones who act hard
|
| The devil on my left side, the other side I’m seeing God
|
| Why do niggas talk shit, never tryin' to stick together
|
| Murder in the city streets make you fools feel better
|
| So I just walk in a pace thinkin' of a case to get a bitch erased
|
| Chrome to your fuckin' face
|
| This ain’t no game nigga, my finger is on the trigger
|
| Your time is runnin' out, my conscious say I gotta get em'
|
| Is there a way that a nigga can escape from hell
|
| I fuck em' up with the Mossberg buckshells
|
| Bitch
|
| Walk up to your house
|
| Knock on your door
|
| And blow your ass off
|
| Walk up to your house
|
| Knock on your door
|
| And blow your ass off
|
| Walk up to your house
|
| Knock on your door
|
| And blow your ass off
|
| Walk up to your house
|
| Knock on your door
|
| And blow your ass off
|
| Once I step up to your door
|
| I’m lettin' all you bitches know
|
| Point blank range to your skull
|
| No love in me ho
|
| Once I get that shit
|
| That plan in my head is to get richer
|
| Sittin' back countin' mozzarella cheese
|
| That’s the picture
|
| What’s up, do you wanna come
|
| And compete against this lady
|
| This lady stayin' scandelous
|
| I’m talkin' bout' crazy
|
| Comin' like the Nazi
|
| Kickin' in the doors for your shit
|
| Never ever hesitate
|
| Stay about my profits bitch
|
| I don’t give a fuck about
|
| What you sayin' the police know
|
| They don’t really know me
|
| All them folk know it’s Jane Doe
|
| Comin' to your soon
|
| So beware of this gangsta shit
|
| Enough has been said
|
| Got you scared so I’m endin' this
|
| See I done built me a two story house up on a rock
|
| I done slept in the park, changed my clothes six o' clock
|
| Got a pocket full of knowledge
|
| Bitch, count my head and sense
|
| I got that whole wide world in my hand
|
| Spin that ten as a trill rock, still for that bill
|
| Hard to kill motherfucker Koopsta mentally ill
|
| Still (??) in my face and bitch best not say shit
|
| I’m yelling quick, quick, quick, quick, quick, quick
|
| Quick, quick, quick hold all my power
|
| Stayin' blastin' bitch dip into a crystal rub
|
| That tough I’ve been seen his face, face thinkin' nigga
|
| Fest for he wishes than just vanity
|
| In my pit with the deadlock on bitch and I’m peekin' now
|
| Them niggas bustin' all over the whole ceilin'
|
| Walk up to your house
|
| Knock on your door
|
| And blow your ass off
|
| Walk up to your house
|
| Knock on your door
|
| And blow your ass off
|
| Checkin' us out while tap on the door
|
| Kickin' them down, make 'em all hit the floor
|
| Innocent victims are shuttin' their door
|
| Leavin' all drippin' in bloody war
|
| Run in the hallways look in the room
|
| Soakin' away them bloody pools
|
| Check for the posse they hidden up there
|
| Popped with a pillow case uder their tools
|
| Put a big bullet behind every ear
|
| Don’t want no moaning, don’t want no tears
|
| Telephone cords; |
| I took out the wall
|
| No one can stop all the terror in here
|
| From the five foot five slut doggin' alcoholic
|
| Mind enchanted door kickin' evil nigga named Lord Infamous
|
| Niggas without knowledge do not recognize the ultimate
|
| I’m getting into drama with the coroner cooler serious
|
| Draggin' dead bodies in back of my grey Chevrolet
|
| On the way to send her mammy flowers with a bomb in a bouqet
|
| I just can’t stop
|
| I keep on loading my gun
|
| I can’t be seein' masta stopa
|
| Till I fill and I come
|
| Cause I ain’t no sitcom
|
| YOur head com
|
| Fool happy being
|
| Flag on my face
|
| So no identityl they seein'
|
| Your enemies me and a
|
| Six double double six bitch ya bein'
|
| Face to face with the forty bitch
|
| One (??) a fast comes tryin' to scare to the trigga ho
|
| Forty four in the middle being your life sayin'
|
| I’mma suckin' let this Ruga go
|
| It ain’t no dead line
|
| Cause they don’t love but plenty hate
|
| When I come at you ho
|
| I’mma take this mask up off my face
|
| We ain’t gonna ring the door bell
|
| Just a couple of knocks
|
| Who it be your presence your
|
| Fuckin' heart heart gonna stop
|
| Cause we gone
|
| Walk up to your house
|
| Knock on your door
|
| And blow your ass off
|
| Walk up to your house
|
| Knock on your door
|
| And blow your ass off
|
| Walk up to your house
|
| Knock on your door
|
| And blow your ass off |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Walk Up 2 yo House, artist - Three 6 Mafia. Album song The End, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп