Pshhhh pshhhh
Uhh
Ohh you rhyme witta slug and sum shots in his face
He rhyme witta slug tryna sound like ma$e
Listened to his tape, this lil nigga used to sound like cake
Maybe Im juss killin, maybe he juss snitchin
See a whole lot different from my cell in Clinton
What I see is straight bug, straight girl
Yea he be a killa, you kill wit words
Rather look at the facts not the hype
Like who got shot and who got knifed
Who keep gettin struck, but dont neva strike
Hope the beef go away but the feds indict
I know yo card nigga, its so clear
You juss wanna sell record you dont want warfare
You dont wanna ride you wanna get rich and hide
These niggaz wouldve died if they shot me nine times
Heyy its juss for the best
Take this mob shit serious, please respect it
And there go the shots stay rippin em apart
Cuz its a blood comin outta his slum
Its murdah bloody homicide is what they cry
When they losin their life
When muhfuckaz ask me how I sleep at night
Pretty good witta a slug and my heat held tight
Pray to god while Im gone, is what underneath feels like
Its my work by the surf when they turn off the lights
You aint kill humma cause if you did
Why you aint get the pen after all of that hit
You know I know, that if you live
That shit that you spit, somebody got somebody
Somebody got jumped, somebody got cut
Yoo pacs a nigga, nobody got shot
Nobody got flushed, you screamin what what
Okay okay killa yousa slut
Think about it, enoughs enoughs
Im tryna show em whoes who
And what is what
I mean how can I respect you
When them niggaz that left you aint none of em blessed you
(not nobody)
You know where they are, where they perform
Bust yo gun, stop makin songs
Please no more ghetto quran
You got money now its time to bomb
And thats juss fo the top
Take this mob shit seriouse please respect it
And there go the shots stay rippin em apart
Cuz its a blood comin outta his slum
Death of perfection as I move witout motion
Aint no nigga in his game doin the shit that Im quotin
Take a good look cause youll neva a see enought of me
Might be sum otha gs tryna trace n color me
But I believe in the ways of old
Slice these niggaz throat tryna tell on po
That shouldnt excist, fuckin snitch
Cut of his dick, put it on his lips
You really think I was gon let you slide
Fuckin wit me you must be outcho mind
You really think jail was gon make thinks right
Nigga I will shoot you till you lose yo life
I was mindin my own, word got back, niggaz talkin bout po
I was like ohh, god must be ready fo this nigga to go
Gang Land, this is the mob
You got yo break come finish yo job
Juss dont get the feds involved
And Imma reunite you wit yo moms
Rip
I guess this aint juss music
Cuz jail only made me much mo ruthless (nigga)
And the bitch nigga knew this
Thats why he tryed to sign me to g-unit
Tell em how you made me offers
(I dont want that blood Imma godfather)
Loved on every street corner
Hurts yo heart that you dont get that honor
The feds I paid fo that
10 years up top
Not seven months shock
Walked the yard wit bloods
Took the bus wit cuz
Went gun fo gun
I earned my lug
You, you juss pathetic
You neva bg, bespite yo average
Take this mob shit serioue, you gon respect it
Thas juss fo the record
And there go the shots stay rippin em apart
Cuz its a blood comin outta his slum
Its murdah bloody homicide is what they cry
When they losin their life
When muhfuckaz ax me how I sleep at night
Pretty good witta a slug and my heat held tight
Pray to god while Im gone, is what underneath feels like
Its my work by the surf when they turn off the light
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