Letras
Young wild niggas living street life on the edge
Not knowing if tomorrow they can turn up dead
Yo fuck regular cops niggas get scoped by the feds
The ghetto live in bloodshed, we live in bloodshed
I know this African cat jet black, gold grill
Said we could split a half a mil' if I could get his wife killed
The feds on him, Jake 2-4-7 on patrol
Cop shot on the stroll by his man that's on parole
Now he haunted
Had a big screen but he torn it
Watching Fox saw his face on America's Most Wanted
With three seeds to feed, stress piled like bricks
So he gotta fix, roll with his crackhead click
Stayed twisted, robbing young ducks for they bucks
One day he slipped up, caught two shells to his gut
But he recovered to say the first shell wasn't shit
What you working with, a rusty.22 kid?
Then he flipped quick, bust back from four-fifths
Six fired, four hit, one crushed the pelvis
The others went through his wrist, how's that for accurate?
The kid scarred for life, equipped with a permanent limp
He was ill when he was young, trying to raise his son
Every time beef come he blast the MAC, 1-1
Spending two G's on clothes to impress the hoes
Getting money in Milwaukee with a house on the low
He played the five boroughs, every day fly, thought he couldn't die
Bags of hydro in the five getting high
He had a rep for hijacking, extortion, and kidnapping
Shooting up clubs, airport, and drug trafficking
He met his match, fuck around and robbed the wrong cat
For a hundred and eighty G's the god want his cream back
Now it's a gun battle, the son ain't fessing, he grabbed his Wesson
These niggas looking for me I'mma shoot they ass a lesson
Going all out, kill or be killed, what's done is done
These niggas not stopping me from having my fun
He at the Tunnel, flexing his whip, rims dipped
Had too much Courvoisier so he started to slip
Oh shit, there go them niggas I stuck, that black truck
Give a fuck, they want they cream, I'mma let my gat bust