| Turn me up in them fuckin headphones real quick man
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| I’m feelin to body this track
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| And body a nigga when I get the fuck outta here man
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| Cocksucker this ain’t rap, check my rap sheets
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| I feed you to the rats with peanut butter on yo' feet
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| 44 bulldog, get money hustle hard
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| So the feds want my face on that damn number card
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| I drag you in your elevator, hit the stop button
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| So when I pop somethin they can’t fingerprint nothin
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| I help you wit’cho bitch, I’m lovin your dame
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| Shoot her ass and her heart, hit her jugular vein
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| Niggas talk it they don’t live it, these niggas is butt
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| Go through they projects and they jewels is tucked
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| I’m in apartment 4B, wipin down the llama
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| With two freaks kissin like, Britney and Madonna
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| And you know how I ride when the beef is on
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| Pull up, LA LA like Jamaican songs
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| It’s a niiiiiiiine, it’s a nine
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| There’s a clip in the nine, bullet in the clip
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| Bullet in the chamber, round on the ground
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| And that’s why homicide all around
|
| There’s a hole, there’s a hole
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| There’s a hole in his head, hole in his leg
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| Hole in his pants, holes everywhere
|
| And that’s why homicide all around
|
| There’s a body, there’s a body
|
| There’s a body in a drop, body in a lot
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| Body uptown, body downtown
|
| And that’s why homicide all around
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| I’m in that brand new Range; |
| when I pull up kid
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| I turn your brains into red concrete stains
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| That’s the beauty of gruesome violence
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| I’m loudmouth nigga but my Ruger silent
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| Sun-up, sundown, my fishscale move
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| And if a nigga wanna stop it he gon' be fish food
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| Yeah Yayo rhyme but I murk a person
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| And when your mind leave your body your spirit is soul searchin
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| Gas your team, nigga I’mma blast your team
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| I got plastic milk jugs full of gasoline
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| Four-fours bark loud, you layin in heaven
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| While your moms and your pops in deep clouds of depression
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| I turn your head into pasta, and baked zuchinni
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| Like that bitch did that rasta in «New Jack City»
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| In broad daylight, you better think twice
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| Or that thing on your hip nigga better spray right
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| It’s a niiiiiiiine, it’s a nine
|
| There’s a clip in the nine, bullet in the clip
|
| Bullet in the chamber, round on the ground
|
| And that’s why homicide all around
|
| It’s a hole, it’s a hole
|
| It’s a hole in his head, hole in his leg
|
| Hole in his pants, holes everywhere
|
| And that’s why homicide all around
|
| It’s a body, it’s a body
|
| It’s a body in a drop, body on the block
|
| Body uptown, body downtown
|
| And that’s why homicide all around
|
| Feelin to fuckin kill somebody right now nigga, fuck!
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| Got a SHITLOAD of guns right now nigga
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| Homicide come around I’m gone nigga
|
| When you see them suits and ties
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| You best to believe I did that to you nigga
|
| Matter of fact I didn’t do that to you
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| Huh, c’mon man, shit is real man
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| This is for them niggas — fuck yo listen lemme tell you somethin
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| Don’t run up on no whip
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| Just run up on a nigga and blow his fuckin brains out
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| That’s what, that’s gangsta nigga — you hear me?
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| Don’t fuckin run up on a whip and spray somethin
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| Lemme see you, shoot a nigga brains out
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| And stand there for two minutes, and then run, motherfucker! |