Crazy head get out there God Blast that nigga hard
It's all real over here
Killa Sin, 9th Prince, what
We don't give a fuck
Yo, it's burning season Y'all thugs is guiltly of high treason Many of them bleeding Some getting sent to the brain for no reason On the streets niggas kill without a license, in Scarsville It's all for real cause everything is real Don't sleep on the average cat he's packing steel
Ayo nigga I'm on the cash rules Wasted in my hand, half a hundred grand Injure that pretender in the black land Heard he be the crack man Selling major jums (?) by the pager son He the one sporting crazy tunes (?) lace 'em with your tongue So here's the plan Get the glock I got the doo-wop Follow him for two blocks And pop him if he do cock Scat back better snap his nap back for that black Pass the stacks to Fat Cat and find out where the crack's at Rolling out make sure you keep your phone out So I can reach your shit quick Get his whip stripped and take my own route For safety Mistakes be for hasty Many jakes who chase me But never have the space to embrace me A fool's game where all the rules change I never move the same But who's to blame My nigga Buddha came with the ruger aim Somebody screamed stop the violence So this nigga had the silencer spitting black talons at any challenger Yo, it was a ghetto Vietnam I tried to flee and harm Me and Har my nigga Buddha caught about three in the arm But one traveled to his abdomen I grabbed him and embraced him Had to see how bad this crab had laced him Yo, rapidly bleeding started pleading for his life Take care my seed and my wife Make sure she's feeding him right True indeed black I got your back I hold it down on the real May you rest in peace son I see you on the ground
Many times I fought the urge to resort to crime
But I find my criminal mind complying with the villain kind I'm feeling nines 'til they overflow Going blow for blow with the rest Cause them try and test the best It's a slug fest Round one sounds wrong I found one Lurking in the back now clapped him with my pound son The shells drop Old ladies yell for the cops and shorty shot shit Fell in the arms of his pops and didn't mean to Why he had them running away Should have taught him how to duck when he heard the fucking gun spray I say a prayer for the kid, keep stepping With my weapon cocked wetting up the block every section hot The gats flash out by leaps and bounds Now police and hounds making up grounds Cause they chasing me down I'm all alone in this war zone My brain's under stress Thinking I'm blessed if I can make it home Scared to death kid Catch my breath I bear left Hit the weeds and then rest to calm my chest But an undercover had discovered my plot and plan I shot the man so I dropped my glock and ran
Get the fuck out the way, move, move Get the fuck out the way, oh shit
Yo, I made a rally to a dark alley Where I bumped heads with crackhead Fred and his bitch named Sally She had a down low lab for me to go to Where I could relax and count stacks like I'm supposed to Keep my whereabouts on the hush hush I had to provide some heroin high, sick grooves, and five bags of dust I didn't wet up or let it slide because I was petrified If homicide got me they gonna watch me die Fuck that, I'm going all out No half stepping My last weapon is cocked to keep that ass jetting I lay low for like five days or so Put some troopers on the block round the clock to make me dough Yo out of sight and out of mind be my motto I promise myself I'm gonna make it to see tomorrow
Word up, Killarm '96 Killa Sin, word up 9th Prince The saga continues For real though gotta let these niggas know To the rounds in the cut, all real niggas raise upTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
