Letras
[Mr. Pookie]
Comin up tha muthafuckin block, its tha Undertaker
Jus throw yo hands in tha air, don't move a muscle I won't hesitate ta
Jus let you have it wit a few thangz
No need for runnin and duckin cause wit this missile pack,I'm takin aim
Now all these methods, need to finish him
I took my sack out my pocket and smoked a blunt as I diminished him
Intoxicated, rule number 1 Pookie jus can't be faded
High off that dosha, I don told ya I was bound to make it
Niggaz smoke, forget that drama I be tellin ya
Cause me and my crooks stay on cloud 9 on tha regular
And sense we crooks, jus some killaz we motivate to get cha
Pull out that knife and slit yo throat and watch yo body shiver
Jus will peel ya, hollow points is hittin quicker
Standin ova yo body and watchin that blood spilla
Say hoe, jus have a seat and listen thea to tha beat
As tha words come out my mouth and grab hard by yo feet
Penetratin to yo nerves, sendin signals to yo brain
As I post up on tha curve, do you forget I'm tha blame?
Wit tha finastatic, lift up my shirt to pistol I will grab it
Killin folks and smokin blunts, I'm lettin these niggaz have it
Chorus[x2]
Visions of a Silent One, loadin up an extra clip
Foes out to get me but these rounds will spill up out my clip
Trip and watch me throw some shit at yo head
No clear description of this face leavin coppers mislead
Now look into tha eyes of a muthafuckin crook (Whatcha see?)
Jus a crip azz nigga high as he can be
Wit them 3 mo crooks, in otha words, my motives
Be comin hard, I told ya, and spittin shit so potent
And toastin to heavy burdens, nigga I'm on my own
Gauge inside yo dome to solve tha problem at home
It's on, now tha pressure's on my back wit a tree
Damn I gotta hit a lick (Naw you need to hit that weed)
Stressin me is a baby momma gripin and cryin
Man I hope she ain't lyin about this baby bein mine
And times is changin, you betta peep tha world around you
Comin up I'm bound to a Southside clown fool