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Don't Turn Around

Advisory - the following lyrics contain explicit language:

I only fuck wit those, who only fuck wit me

A sucka play for games, a man play for keeps

I keeps me a nine millimeter just in case

A cowards in my face, these bullets, he gon' tasteA waste of your life, stepping wrong, I'm on trees

Best to leave me alone, best to go make some cheese

Enemies come in all shapes, forms, sizes, colors

Could be your best friend, cousin or brothersI rob 'em all, just to see who got the fattest stack

Walked in the bank, put the loot in the Kroger sack

Slapped on the guard four times 'fore he passed out

Eyes on the blow and my pockets was assed outHad on a trench coat, wig and some goggles

Ifn you resist, you may not see tomorrow

Im in there, outta there, the police couldn't get me

But I made a slip up, had a trick wit meDont turn around

(Give me the fucking cheese, trick)

Dont make a sound

(Show me where them keys at)Lay it on the ground

(Knowing that your pockets fat)

'Fore I buck you down

(And Im quicks to do that)Dont turn around

(Give me the fucking cheese, trick)

Dont make a sound

(Show me where them keys at)Lay it on the ground

(Knowing that your pockets fat)

'Fore I buck you down

(And Im quicks to do that)Nigga starting bragging in his hood 'bout the robbery

Wasn't long then 'fore somebody dropped the dime on me

I'ma be the one they cant get to, they picked the boy up

Run his mouth just like a fool, he gon get me fucked upBut, I'ma have to get to him before the police do

Caught up with him night and day, not him and his crew

Sprang down Chelsie Ave., kinda in the evening

For this muh'fuckas death, dawg, I was fiendingHe was looking at me strange, like I'ma catcha

I done hopped out with the thang, lemme holla atcha

Foo, where you been, dog? My momma got sick, man

Fuck that got to do witchu? Hold up, I aint your bitch, manI heard you been talking your muh'fucking lips loose

(Nah, it aint like that, dawg, I aint no damn fool)

Looking in his eyes, I could see that he was so scared

I squeezed on the trigga with the gun to his foreheadDont turn around

(Give me the fucking cheese, trick)

Dont make a sound

(Show me where them keys at)Lay it on the ground

(Knowing that your pockets fat)

'Fore I buck you down

(And Im quicks to do that)Dont turn around

(Give me the fucking cheese, trick)

Dont make a sound

(Show me where them keys at)Lay it on the ground

(Knowing that your pockets fat)

'Fore I buck you down

(And Im quicks to do that)Blew the top out his skull, now they want me dead

All the niggas in his hood, police and the Feds

Stepped out of Westwood, way out of the side

On the other side of town, somewhere I can hideI done threw my life away, hunted by them by pigs

Robbing every other day, drops in off my nig

They done found my whereabouts, 'bouts to do me in

Kicking in the front door and I was in the denSK was under the couch, snatch it off the wham

Open fire on them hoes, I didn't give a damn

Blood stream was full of dope, pump off coca leaf

Feds had me under a scope and an infrared beamRifle bullet threw my throat, choking, hit tha flo

Gunpowder in my mouth, knocking Heaven's door

Street life done took me out and that shit aint fake

I done fuck myself off 'cause I made a mistake

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