Some think that I'm a flake, but I'm no fake nigga
Cause I'll drink a bitch, make him a witch and burn his ass at the stake
With a .44 mag it's so simple
Put it to his temple
Fuck it, I give a nigga permanent dimples
Easing up on the fast slow, but I'll let your ass know
The block's still hot like Tabasco
Brand New Heavies on the tracks, G Rap on the wax
Cold bumping, got motherfuckers doing jumping jacks
You motherfuckers lost it
I bake your ass like a cake and all ya flakes can frost it
Cause when G Rap is on the mix
Niggas start shittin bricks and turn into chicks with small dicks
So a bitch, lyrics with a live band
(Yo this shit is funky) Yo fuck funky, the shit hit the fan
Shame if you're stepping to my set
You niggas get wacked, nah fuck it, it's just a motherfuckin death threat
Yeah, I got you bitches on lockdown, you niggas get knocked down
You're runnin cause I'm gunnin your block down, punk
So save the bitch riff cause my four-fifth lifts
I'm tossing stiffs off of fuckin cliffs
Get close, I got you on scope, you walking on thin rope
So I'm a shoot 'em up like dope
Cause to make my notes I'm a cut throats
Bodies are thrown off boats and do a dead man's float
Straight down a river
Heh, with a bullet inside his motherfuckin liver
Another hoody got thrown out
Stepped right into the crossfire ya got her brains blown out
So you niggas better duck
Cause when my pump's full of buckshots, I don't give a fuck
You think you're down with them murder guys
Bullshit, say hello to that dirt you're gonna fertilize
You wonder why the area stunk
Homicides just fell ten bones since our car drove
When they opened the other trunks that was closed
Mummified unidentified John Does
All found dead on arrival
Cause I pulled up slowly and made 'em holy like Bibles
They found a letter and cassette
Read it, said it's just a motherfuckin death threat
Send these bodies to a morgue for a freezin
I got my motherfuckin finger on the trigger cause it's nigga season
A punk tried to drop me
I left his body sloppy so they can't perform an autopsy
Dig a hole for the bitch
And put all of his pieces and bits inside a ditch
Yo, you don't think you're goin under
I got a bullet with your name, your address, and your phone number
So if you want to play games
I'm throwin you the fuck out the frame
You tried to front and got murdered last night
So now you float to the motherfuckin light
So I'm a step to your grave and make a toast
And start shootin at your motherfuckin ghost
So may the Lord be with ya
Cause I ain't no saint and I don't paint a pretty pictures
It ain't nothing but bloodshed
Stains of brains on the rug and left slugs in your head
You want to make me upset?
Heh, then I'm a promise you a motherfuckin death threat