Lyrics
I got an pistol an it holdin 30 round
I got an AK and it holdin' 60 now
I got an A-12, lost the count
Look me up off the rip and the bullets Are gone
Straight off the nod, rip a beat Underground
Bullets go blaugh
Lovin' the sound
M.Key a player, yeah, I fuck around
Yo, we hit him in the head and he Might go dumb
How you go to war without no gun
Talkin' that shit, betta bite your Tongue
Yeah, Mic do a big fei fie fo fum
I'm spittin' the truth and I'm rappin' The facts
I'm bad like Michael, way back in the Past
You niggas is pussy, we maxi the pads
This shit gettin' good, see what happened with that
Call me a slayer, call me a sprayer put Respect on my name or I'll take that Chain
Pull the trigger back, click-clack, you Dead
Or pay-up sucker, stay my friend
We lookin' at kids behind our backs Got nothin' to lose and nothin' to have
Got nothin' to cop, they got nothin' to Pocket
And soon we all know they'll be Fightin' for that
We big shit poppin' just like T.I
Ain't no stoppin' it, so I try
You just might die
For fuckin' around with mine
Get dropped like a bag of dimes
Or a bad habit, nigga done had it
Bout to go manic insane
Pullin' out straps, cockin' it back Shootin' up shit like drugs to the veins
At pull-in' triggers, my homie Skinny Faster than a cheetah
Quicker than you beat, feet
Swifter than you retreat
Pull it out, leave you stiffer than Aqua-Neta
And if you fuckin' with Da Clic, then You gon' meet the heater
Don't try to up a chop, dem fuckin' Cops already I got you
Blaugh!
My dog Skinny, run up on you, M1 Pop you
Yuh!
Creep-in' up now
Few pounds of pressure, split a Splatter
Now your brain matter
M1 grippin' Mr. Millimeter!
Pullin' up, pullin' up, Kia be bumpin Raw Threads on my Jock
Get clocked like Compton
I know somethin'
My church thumpin
Booth that room, spit raw, rough Rude
Like crude
Chick-chick boom pumpin
Shotgun dumpin'
Smile motherfuckers, dumb shit
Hustlers got you somethin' Boom, That's M.Key$ 's money!
Contact high that comin' from me
You should not fuck with the one
Yo, that's a commandment, it's Number 11 in fact
You already know we not fuckin' with 12
Talk to 5-0, put you under the mat
Talk about this and you tell about that Keep squealin', we cut out the tongue Of a rat
Steppin' my presence, you know it's a Wrap
I fuck with the future, dealin' with the Past
Levels right, an I'm makin' the climb Livin' this life, yes, I'm in my prime
Search searchin' and lookin' around For the signs
Rhymes that will rattle and shake up Your spines
If you want battle, you dead, you can Pray at these shrines
My shit is divine, you can check the Design
Checkin' the scriptures of my mind
That was always confined
That's our name the Clic murderous
You might not have heard of us
We are the heat, the fire, the sun of Sun
The return of dust
So when you die, you remain under Us
Hit you with thunderous uppercuts Yeah, you just fuckin' suck
What the fuck is luck?
Cause I don't need none
At pullin triggers, homie Skinny Faster than a cheetah
Quicker than you beat feet
Swifter than your retreat
Pull it out
Leave you're stiffer than Aqua-Neta
And if you fuckin' with Da Clic
Then you gon' meet the heater
Don't try to up a chop, dumb fuckin' Cops already got you
Blaugh
My dog Skinny, run up on you
M1 Pop you, yuh
Creepin' up now
Pounds of pressure, split a splatter
Now your brain matter Bro
M1, grippin' Mr. Millimeter
Pull it out, creepin' up now
Pull it out, creepin' up now
Pull it out, creepin' up now