Alba s touto skladbou:
New Junk Aesthetic,
3CD Collector´s Set,
E=MC?,
Where it at Where it at
Uhh
[repeat 3x]
[Verse 1]
ohh do he rhyme with a slug from the shots in his face or
do He rhyme wit a slug tryin' ta sound like mase
Listened to his tape, this lil' nigga used to sound like Cake
Maybe I'm juss killin, maybe he juss snitchin
See a whole lot different from my cell in Clinton
what I see is straight bird, straight girl
Yea he be a killa,you kill the words
you gotta look at the facts and not the hype
Like who got shot and who got knife-d
Who keep gettin struck, but don't neva strike
Hope the beef go away but the feds indict
I know yo card nigga, it's so clear
You juss wanna sell records you don't want warfare
You don't wanna ride you wanna get rich and hide
cause niggaz would've died if they shot me nine times
Hey it's juss for the record
Take this mob shit serious, please respect it
[Hook]
hear we go with shots that rip'em apart
Cuz it's a blood comin outta his heart
It's murdah bloody homicide is what they cry
When they losin' their life
muhfuckaz ax me how I sleep at night
Pretty good witta slur an my heat held tight
Pray to god while I'm gone, is what underneath feels like
Finish my work on this earth and turn off the lights (verse 2]
You ain't kill Homa 'cause if you did
Why you ain't get the kid that ordered the hit
You know I know, that if you live
That shit that you spit, somebody got somebody
Somebody got jumped, somebody got cut
You a boxer nigga, nobody got shot
Nobody got crushed, you screamin what what
Okay okay killa you suck
Tinkerbelle, enough is enough
its time to show 'em who's who
And what is what
I mean how can I respect you
When them niggaz that left you ain't none of 'em blessed you
(not 1 body)
You know where they are, where they perform
Bust yo gun, stop makin songs
Please no more ghetto quran
You got money now it's time to bomb
And that's juss from the time
Take this mob shit serious please respect it
hear that boy the shots they rip 'em apart [2x]
Cuz it's a blood comin outta his heart
[Verse 3]
Death of perfection as I move witout motion
Ain't no nigga in his game doin the shit that I'm quotin'
Take a good look 'cause you'll neva a see another of me
Might be sum otha g's tryna trace n color me
But I believe in the ways of old
When I slit a fools throat tryna tell on po
That shouldn't 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(bye bye)
Gangland this is the mob
You got yo break come finish yo job
Juss don't get the feds involved
And I'mma reunite you wit yo moms
Rip
I guess this ain't juss music
Cuz jail only made me much mo' ruthless (nigga)
And the bitch nigga knew this
That's why he tryed to sign me to g-unit(nah)
Tell 'em how you made me offers
I don't run with that(blood) I'mma godfather
Loved on every street, conquered streets
Hurts yo heart that you don't get that honor
The feds I paid fo that
10 years up top
not 7 monthz shop
i walked the yard with blood
Took the bus wit cuz
Went gun fo gun
I earned my lug
You, you juss pathetic
You will neva be G, despite yo efforts
Take this mob shit serious, you gon' respect it
Tha's juss fo the record
[Hook]
hear we go with the shots that rip'em apart
Cuz it's a blood comin outta his heart
It's murdah bloody homicide is what they cry
When they losin' their life
muhfuckaz ax me how I sleep at night
Pretty good witta slur an my heat held tight
Pray to god while I'm gone, is what underneath feels like
Finish my work on this earth and turn off the lights
