| I’m off that muthafucking OE and Gin
|
| Once again, talkin 'bout that blood on da rug
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| Evidence, could have been mine or his
|
| So i been stressed out ever since
|
| Left him on the concrete wit' his head split
|
| Found out where i live by this, by this, punk bitch
|
| Knowin' its about to crack like an indo sack
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| I’m hella fucked up, so with the heat i commense to peak out the window, waitin'
|
| Ran off the indo, shakin niggas like Barry Sanders
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| Cause they weak, like a spiderweb, in the fact to suck you up cause you weak
|
| And i’m at my peak, when i’m buckin' at the enemy, its like ten of me
|
| Choppin' down trees, twistin' up leaves, 'bout to make niggas bleed
|
| Off the hook like a fish with his lip cut, get away, got away, rip gut
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| Hit 'em up with enough lead stuff to turn 'em into a magnet
|
| Body in da dragnet, keep my dickies saggin' blue flaggin'
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| Body draggin' down the street to the end of the creek and its evil you see
|
| Creepin through the grass, and the gardens dick hard
|
| And i be draggin' on a garcia vega with the green flavour neighbour-
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| Hood make a break a duece four
|
| Fuck a hoe, a lot’a niggas dont know
|
| But its lose a hoe gain a hoe
|
| So, bruise a hoe who’s to know
|
| Youll need to follow me up
|
| Leave your body in the back of the '84 cut, all chopped up
|
| Look through my window at night, and you can get glass in your eye
|
| After that your ass gonna die screamin' … and thats no lie
|
| You’ll be passin' me by, every night
|
| 'til i come out wit the minni mac and attack like a pit bull off that dumb shit
|
| you pulled, I’m talkin 'bout that
|
| Murder, Evidence, we been doin' this here, ever since, ever since, day one,
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| day one, split, gotta Nigga gone, buy this, Biatch, fucced up, fucked up,
|
| fucked uup, fucked uup, fucked uuup, fucked uuuup
|
| Yeah come on
|
| They got me contemplating on Homicide
|
| Clutchin' to my 45
|
| Then i miss (?) to the doja, the paranoja takin over my mind
|
| It was all a matter of time
|
| Before we hit where you was at
|
| Off in your residence
|
| Cock the hammer back and between ya eyes
|
| For the dead presidents
|
| And ever since day one
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| When this shit begun
|
| Been in it fo' the fun
|
| Its the Cutthroat nigga
|
| And the Ripgut
|
| My nigga Lynch Hung
|
| We do this shit on a daily
|
| Maybe we’ll let ya live to see ya Baby
|
| If you hurry up and show me where is the do' at
|
| Nigga i won’t kill you and your Lady
|
| Stuff the dufflebag full of cash
|
| Dope, greens, heaters and hash
|
| File the bundles, i’m even in the cut
|
| Snatchin' shit up out the stash
|
| Got this motherfuckers bound to gag
|
| Dragging bags, full of illegal shit across the grass
|
| Jumped in a black 'lac wit' the windows up and smash
|
| On my way back to the pad
|
| My nigga Lynch splitting up all the cash
|
| Gettin gone off this niggas dodo
|
| And fo' sho' be smokin up all the hash
|
| Cause we mash after the cash, fast and never hesitant
|
| We’ll leave you and yo' bitch tied up ever since nigga wit no evidence
|
| No evidence |