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He got the slip on you |
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This how it went down, I had to undergo therapy, not surgery |
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The nigga wetted me but he didn't murder me |
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Dun, I survived, he thought that I died |
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Now it's time to throw the Nine, clip in, mission revenge |
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Once was friends but that shit's dead |
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That stupid motherfucker shoulda shot me in the head |
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So I went to Brooklyn and met with Dread |
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And told Dread, I want the pussy clot shot dead |
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That nigga started a war fuckin' with me, yo |
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Hit me with a four-four and jetted with a kilo |
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He hit me in the chest, lucky I was wearin' a vest |
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But the impact hurt my fuckin' flesh |
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Right after he left, I noticed I was bleedin' by my neck |
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And I was type-scared to death, yo, I blacked out |
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I woke up, my man had the Mac out |
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Said we gonna get the nigga back no doubt |
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He told me to rest |
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I seen my nigga standin' at the door with a Tec |
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In case a motherfucker flex |
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I told him how the motherfuckin' kid co-flipped |
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And he said parlay son, payback's a bitch |
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Yo, shit is real, I feel better |
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Word out on the street is that a four-four cant stop Mega |
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The nigga musta heard I didn't die, son, he hidin' |
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I snatched up his man inside a van and started drivin' |
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His man started dymin' |
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Said the nigga drivin' in 735 and he knows where to find him |
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Cool, tell my man to drop the kid off |
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Soon as we hit the next darn block, blew his fuckin' wig off |
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Now that's one down, one nigga to go |
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Just drive slow so we don't have to worry 'bout five-o |
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Now it's time to get even |
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We in, five Jeeps deep with the mad heat and steamin' |
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Oh shit, I see him, he gettin' out the seven |
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My man started wettin' at the nigga with a Mac-11 |
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I specialize in war, now it's time to blow him |
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I'ma show him how to use a fuckin' four-four |
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I said, "Yo son, ya games over" |
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I let off, and yo my shit was spittin' fire like a flamethrower |
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He started buckin' back, I caught him in his fuckin' back |
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When he flung, I think his lungs collapsed |
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He just a dead man walkin' |
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Ay yo, fuck that shit, I'm through talkin' |
