They want problems; soon them want me waxed, contracts on my ass It's comin from the pen, they say I owe 'em cash Dwellin off the past and they need it fast But what they fai'lize is I'll be quick to blast Die hard cold blooded killer all about my work Dressed up like a female in a mini-skirt Specialize in doin dirt - shootin niggaz in the shirt Put the pistol in his mouth and make it hurt, ooh Cutlass, guzzlin down a 40-ounce bottle of Swiss malt liquor brewsky talkin to a cutie standin outside the movie theater sittin on top of the hood of my Cutlass Smokin on a non-filter pink pack colored edition cigarette Clove-family affiliated cancer stick lookin +GANESH+ beadie What the fuck? W here's the peace treaty? Full of my Wheaties, yes indeedy, M-16's don't shoot no beebees Programmed to amputate anything that gets off in my way Then I put them same size left over bullets up in my A.K. I can't wait 'til we bump heads
It on, on sight day and night no matter what I'm dumpin' I'm tryin to see you niggas 'bout somethin'
"I'm heated, them niggas cheated" - We had a meetin', shit 'posed to been squashed
Shit was 'posed to been squashed
I've got a hunch; meet me at the Olive Garden spot let's do lunch Fool and dem tried to pass the buck and set us up for lumps Sons of bitches must think we some chumps Time to break out the pipe bombs and the pumps
Nigga fuck stress and pull lick, we kick in the door with full clips Out of Magnums packin when we blast 'em we all out for the chips FOol, 40-Water never slip, saw the niggaz quick and then dipped Before we spark the pipe bombs, and blow them niggaz shit to side-ways up off they block, poppin gears in a big block All out non stop riders until our casket drop We smashin, blastin on any, while I remember many Dash and blastin double two-three's, fuck the enemies
One of my big dudes up out HPA shot me a kite today He up in Pelican Bay three striker Doin 25 with a L cause he won't tell on one of his high-ranked dudes in position who wears a diaper With the shit stacked on the side of his waist blood splattered all on the windshield wiper Somebody tried to take his face - caught him up in his Viper Loose as a goose ass out tried to down him like a sniper hyperventilated started havin' seizures No feelings in his legs, arms, or his sneakers
We stand tall, like Manute Bol with bigger balls than RuPaul Strapped with 4-4's down to execute all y'all Don't want to see us niggas on a mission 150 round drum 45 slugs bitten No remorse hit by the hardcore fo' sho' Leave him stuck in his front seat 70 rounds through his front window Ain't no fuckin' with G's Fill 'em up to they neck from they knees Leave 'em dyin' in the street as we escape on they goldeeze