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