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Like this... |
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You roll with a bunch of grimey street cats known for packin gats and livin in dirt |
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They claim they got your backside, but the reality is that they're quick to desert |
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Your money ain't right, and that's only half the reason your feelings is hurt |
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You got robbed last night and found out one of your own cats is stealin your work |
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And now you wanna kill this jerk, put him in an ambulance quick with a nurse |
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Your picturin his body stiff sittin six feet deep layin cold in a hurse |
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You want it so bad that you can taste it, and the anticipation is only makin it worse |
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So you decide to follow him around, you see him in the night club trickin on skirts |
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You got a dollar to your name and at least 30 more days until the first |
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So while you're in the |
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VIP spittin game you order a long island to quench your thirst |
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Sit back take two sips, relaxed behind two chicks |
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Mad cause you gotta listen to these broads talk about every |
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Tom, Dick, and |
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Harry with their loose lips |
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You only here for one thing thinkin 'bout the pay back, waitin for this fool to dip |
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It's funny how things change, this is the same cat that you went to high school with |
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Disrespectin you makin you flip, robbin you while he owin you grip |
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And you can't believe this cat had the nerve to try to sell it back to you on some brand new shit |
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You convinced he ain't got no sense and he did what he did just to see you flip |
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Now you posted in a night club with a nine milli and two clips |
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Payin attention to the people that he talks to, especially the chick you see him foolin with |
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But not really givin a **** if this chicken head got a family and two kids |
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You see 'em leave together, so you tail him to the parking lot to his new whip |
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Then you whistle to get his attention thinkin to yourself this mother****er's stupid |
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Didn't know what hit him till the first few clips, gun clappin off and on to the music |
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The gun plays a murderous metronome, welcome to the terrordome |
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He got caught while he was headin home, never thought for a second you'd ever catch him alone |
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And now he's wonderin why he ever robbed you layin on the concrete with lead in his dome |
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You standin there shakin like a little child with your hands on the chrome |
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And everything is for the takin so you snatch his wallet and yank off his hairy bone |
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You look around and hide the gun, see somebody callin 9-1-1 on a cell phone |
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But you still got time to run, make a clean gettaway, and pray the truth will never be known |
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So you bail into the shadows and make sure that your face is hard to see |
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But the chick that he was with in the club saw the whole thing and starts to scream |
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Your only thought is to flee, so you bail into the parking lot and head across the street |
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You get inside the ride, look in your pockets so you can start the jeep |
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And then it hits you that in the middle of this robbery and homicide you lost your keys |
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And then it hits you that you'll probably get the ****in chair cause you lost your keys |
