Yo once a pimp gets threats
That's right, that's the, the that's, that's threats them
And I'm serious about mine, I'm so sincere
And I, nigga I'll kill ya, I'll chop ya up
Put ya inside the mattress like drug money niggaYeah, I done told you niggas
9 or 10 times stop fucking with me
I done told you niggas
9 albums, stop fucking with me
I done told you niggas
The 9 on me, stop fucking with me
You niggas must got 9 lives
9th wonderPut that knife in ya, take a little bit of life from ya
Am I frightening ya? Shall I continue?
I put the gun to ya, I let it sing you a song
I let it hum to ya, the other one sing along
Now it's a duet, and you wet, when you check out
The technique from the 2 tecs and I don't need two lips
To blow this like a trumpet you dumb shit
This is a unusual musical I conducting
You looking at the black Warren Buffett so all critics can duck sic
I don't care if you C. Delores Tuck-it
Or you Bill O'Reilly, you only ryling me up
For three years, they had me peeing out of a cup
Now they bout to free me up, what you think I'm goin' be, what?
Rehabilitated, man I still feel hatred
I'm young black and rich so they want to strip me naked, but
You never had me like Christina Aguiler-why
But catch me down the Westside, driving like Halle Berry
Or the FDR, in the seat of my car
Screaming out the sunroof death to y'all
You can't kill me, I live forever through these bars
I put the wolves on ya, I put a price on your head
The whole hood'll want ya, you starting to look like bread
I send them boys at ya, I ain't talking bout Feds
Nigga them body-snatchers, nigga you heard what I saidI make 'em wait for you 'til five in the mornin
Put your smarts on the side of your garment
Nigga stop fuckin with me
R.I.P.That's right there nigga, nigga I'm wild
Nigga I keep trash bags with me
Never know when you gotta dump a nigga out
This sincere, this some sincere shit right here!Grown man I put hands on you
I dig a hole in the desert, they build The Sands on you
Lay out blueprint plans on you
We Rat Pack niggas, let Sam tap dance on you
Then, I Sinatra shot ya God damn you
I put the boy in the box like David Blaine
Let the audience watch, it ain't a thing
Y'all wish I was fronting, I George Bush the button
Front of all you in your car lift up your hood nigga run it
Then lift up your whole hood like you got oil under it
Your boy got the goods y'all don't want nothing of it
Like, Castor oil, I Castor Troy you
Change your face or the bullets change all that for you
Y'all niggas is targets
Y'all garages for bullets, please don't make me park it
In your upper level, valet a couple strays
From the 38 special, nigga, God bless youI make 'em wait for you 'til five in the mornin
Put your smarts on the side of your garment
Nigga stop fuckin with me
R.I.P.Yeah I'm threatening ya, YEAH I'm threatening ya!
Who you thank you dealing with?
They call me Chris, nigga I been making threats
Since I been in kindergarten nigga!
Huh, ask about me, see if you ain't heardWhen the gun is tucked, untucked, nigga you dies
Like nunchucks held by the Jet L-I
I'm the one, thus meaning no one must try
No two, no three, no four, know why?
Because one's four-five might blow yo' high
You ain't gotta go to church to get to know yo' God
It's a match made in heaven when I 'splay the 7
Put you on the nigga news, UPN at 11
Where you been, you ain't heard, got the word that I'm
That I'm so sincere?
I'm especially Joe Pesci with a grin
I will kill you, commit suicide, and kill you again
That's rightI make 'em wait for you 'til five in the mornin
Put your smarts on the side of your garment
Nigga stop fuckin with me
R.I.P.
Songwriters
SHAWN CARTER, SHAWN C CARTER, ROBERT S KELLYPublished by
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.