Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Hit, artist - Wu-Syndicate. Date of issue: 19.04.1999
Song language: English
The Hit |
| Shit, pass the clubs it over here |
| Fuck, damn, yeah nigga thought it was soft |
| Get the fuck up nigga, no doubt |
| Niggas got Napoleon down |
| Gassed their whole scene |
| Yo, trial of the century, nosy bitches came from 50 states |
| Fans walked in with ten video tapes |
| I’mma wipped out, scored with these cats for three years |
| Ripped on em, now that fat cat livin in fear |
| Yo cream dun, grow into this dangerous hitman |
| Took both families out for a hundred grand |
| Right hand man, Curly haired kid from the alles |
| With bubbled eyed Benzes, diamond laced medallions |
| Murder plots, target it to what this fat cat from Miami |
| Who flexed gold just on his Lex |
| But on one night, threw Rec Poison on his eye sight |
| Two hundred stitches required, for metal spikes |
| He survived though, but snitched like Sammy Grivana |
| Game info about this chick named Tiwanna |
| Who test about killin and needle, shootin villains |
| Underground stash location with six million |
| To take, revail straight mafia shit |
| Phillipino chick licked coke right off his dick |
| He paid the judge off, but still got assassinated |
| Stretched out like pussy wounds that dialeted |
| Murder cases, some foul and some fixed |
| Wu-Syndicate, we never leave finger prints |
| Chorus- Myalansky |
| Tonight we gonna murder, can’t leave no fingerprints |
| Twist the silencer off, Myalansky, Napoleon |
| Call my man Joe Mafia, suit up we goin in |
| Shisty can’t leave no traces and shit |
| We barkin here |
| We in the crime scenes, straight shoot out |
| Who thugged his back out? |
| I can’t see him |
| One of the cats shot the lights out |
| Bacup, pick the gat up, Myalansky |
| I can’t see Gotti, cover me we gotta shut this shit down dun |
| Turn around son, blow we bust one |
| So close it almost touched him |
| You aight son? |
| I got this |
| He wanna jam son dun, you cop this? |
| They trying to leave a nigga rockless |
| When he came into the spot though |
| Watching Polio get dough |
| They flashed the fo-fo, heads barricated the door |
| We made our way out, with the flame out |
| With X amount, and the crack house stayin on point |
| Who thugged his back out? |
| Tonight nigga, then’s when we gettin them, said to Napoleon |
| Meet with Joe Mafia first, and then we rollin in |
| Once again, same routine, twist on the silencers |
| Shh! |
| There go them niggas, come on let’s follow them |
| Pollyin, uppin at Lex within the prodigy |
| You fuck with that rep with that theme, whole town watchin him |
| Damn that bitch fed as shit yo, pass the binoculars |
| Now we gettin back in the car, forget we droppin them |
| Pull up on the side of his whip and starting sparkin him |
| Silencers on three fresh mats, no one was watchin kid |
| Though we never forget their ass |
| Stash the burners, no fingerprints |
| No rust say shit, routine, go head |