That nigga pussy doin' pig Latin
He can't come to the hood
Might kill him off, top up in the Staten
Son think he better than niggas
I think his rebels is resentful, tried to kill him in his rentalHe had an Idi Amin approach, hittin' the roach
Had a hunger face, he drove his mom's 7 in the ocean
He's a wild cowboy slangin' heron who rocked the dead on
Knock a DEA agent on his ChevronAll of his Eli's machette'd up stainlessYou never heard nothin', all you hear is the guns bangin'
Rockin' pastel blazers with a shorty from Iceland
Who old dad put 'em up on white sand
Starvin' to make a whack debut, he came through the lobbyThree culture Devilles with them a whitey
This pathetic, ragged monkey face faggot daddy
Comin' through the stairs with blow in his mouth, desperate
Watchin' him lookin' stupid, son know we on foot patrolCome through the hole, niggas is swoopin'
700 shots, all leather gloves, 6 thugs
Two had a mask on, they took 'em off, what?
We got you now nigga, knowin' you downNiggas is foul, this is trauma king, by any means blaow
They pushed his face in, fell out as saconies
Snatched his homies, took his glock
You gon' be my tenderonies?Metal exchanges, the hoods, the gun range
Everybody's a target, dependin' on how you aim
Dice games and ice chains, pendants spellin' your name
OG's settin' the wrong example, tellin' the sameLook at shorty shit stain, grew up to be a fuckin' mess
Before his clique came, he banged and never tucked his chest
Closets full of them things, he caught the gun connect
Ridin' 'round with A and Lou, Nino when they want respectSon cold, Nino want to show
Everybody know they straight shippin'
Hood bitches to the bungalow
Pillow talking led to birds talking
Chattin' bout what happened
And when and where they comin' back inChampagne slackin' traffickin' while they travel
Word got back at old time friends and snakes rattled
Two different Bourbons
But the one that dropped the birds got tailed
Information for the ones who light the steel got millPussy power made the plans sour
Apartment full of party powder outside a stakeout for hours
Click clacks from big gats and rags
Soon as the door squeaks they runnin' up on the grassBang flash, shots right on path, broken glass
Comedy of laughs while they haul ass with the bags
Legends in my hood play back, twin Benz's whippin' in black
And that was like the old Maybach
Songwriters
Corey Dean Lloyd;Corey Woods;Marc ShemerPublished by
WU-TANG PUBLISHING, INC.;SCRAM JONES Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.