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(feat. Poet) |
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[Scratching] |
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Circumstance is beyond our control |
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[Poet] |
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Livin' on the down low and I represent the Shaolion deep |
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Where crazy bother's known for buckin' a nigga, so don't sleep |
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????? Watch the bodies pile |
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Ooh child you can't fuck with my bloody murderstyle |
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I got you on a scope and it's sharper than a knife |
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Feel the 9-mill rip it through your flesh, taken life |
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Just another bitchass caught up in my warpath |
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Cut you right in half, feel the wrath of a bloodbath |
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Mass destruction, try test my function |
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With the padamin I kicks the flavor in ???? conjunction |
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What's more to prove nigga? Hold op |
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My hoodyman crew know I got shit so up! |
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One for all and all for one |
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Some for me and my crew, but nigga you gets none |
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So check out my steez, I get over like a bear |
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Hoppin' door and rush hour lookin' out for the coppa |
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Watch what you do and kid it's over when my glock pops |
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And my crew rocks, pack 'em in like a lunchbox |
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???'s mad shitty like a diper |
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You're just another victim of the rooftop sniper |
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[Chorus] |
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[x4] |
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Buck buck buck |
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The eyelid to let out! |
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Three-fifty-seven! Boom! |
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I put his head out |
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[Poet] |
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I wanna know, can you feel it? |
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The Tech-9 rip, because this be the season for catchin' a map clip |
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I'm showin' you who's nigga, when I smoke a hell off niggaz |
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Better recognize fool, when my finger's on the trigger |
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Go for the flow ho, just so you know |
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Punk niggaz like you can't fuck with my flow |
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The buckshot, one buckshot two |
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By the time we let off three, there'll be no one you |
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Because the buldge in my pants ain't just a big dick |
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Every 4th of July, you're bussin' shots with my click |
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And that crew consists of nigga Wrecker |
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But no, I'm the only bouncer, so love I, my brother |
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Big chop is on, I caught the storm |
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When I see a crazy cloud of meth comin' down like a hawk |
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And that can only mean Big Sam is in the hallway |
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With a fat blunt, gettin' fucked up all day |
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Slow decept you, flex you, now we bust |
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Fuck if we must, because the glocks we trust |
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Open up your eyes, now you see your triggerstyle |
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Glocks pop up, nigga what now? ChickaPOW! |
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[Chorus] |
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[x4] |
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Buck Buck Buck |
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The eyelid to let out |
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Three fifty seven! Boom! |
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I put his head out |
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[Poet] |
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Listen to my 9-millimeter go bang |
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Shells drop from the glock, now I know you can't hang |
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With the roughneck, hooligan, oh no not you again |
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Killin' mad force, no remorse when I do 'em in |
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Chose to oppose, now you sleep with the fishes |
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Tech-9 dreams clock nineteen wishes |
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My ??? gets crazy fat like a ham |
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Niggaz try to play me out and I'll be damned if I don't ?blam? |
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Step back, perpertratin' with the job |
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When it's time to survive, cock back with the full five |
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On the streets reaper, you met the grim reaper |
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Layin' six feet down, 'cause it gets no deeper |
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[Chorus] |
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[x4] |
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Buck Buck Buck |
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The eyelid to let out |
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Three fifty seven! Boom! |
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I put his head out |
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[The beat goes on with some scratches and then fades out] |
