Heyho out there you motherfuckers Here we're back again For some we are the heroes For some a pestilence Playing fast and loud Nobody can ignore Our old
witta full clip; yeah, I'm 'bout that! [gunshot] {DAMN! } Front on me, get away, I doubt that! [shot] {OOH! } Want to tell that D's; yeah, I doubt that! I put the barrel
day, on the front page. Mister Kid, if you give me the low-down me and Blackjack, Be ready fo' da showdown, wit' 2 double-barrels pointed at whateva,
somebody's house, kids screaming I ain't gonna front somehow I wish that I was sleeping, dreaming Too late it's done now, all you hear is gun sounds Cock
duckin Feds and rocks under they tongues and, ki's under they beds and do it for the real niggaz, twenty-four seven hustlers EHHH, until we shove a barrel
Money nigga What? Callin' me killer (Killer) Callin' me killer (Killer) Them callin' me killer (Killer!) Them callin' me head busta, Cash Money nigga (Killer!) Killer
how a bitch feel Gotta be strong to handle it is real Pussy kills Backs shots keep a nigga open Bitch a have niggas gun smoking, huh Pussy kills [Nas
mine, I hope you (got yo'self a gun) You from the hood I hope you (got yo'self a gun) You want beef? I hope ya (got yo'self a gun) And when I see you
brawl, runnin they mouth That is till I run in they house, put the gun up in they mouth Tell a nigga talk shit now, and then you know the gun go BLAO
Been Before But Thats How It Goes [Young Buck:] They Say Its All I Talk About Is Murder Murder Kill Kill But If I Die Today Another Nigga Still Will On The Front
front, hope ya (Got yourself a gun) You ain't real, hope ya (Got yourself a gun) (Got yourself a gun) I got mine, I hope ya (Got yourself a gun) You
got yourself a gun") You from the hood, I hope you ("got yourself a gun" You want beef I hope ya ("got yourself a gun") And when
twelve gauge? Outlaw, everyday on the front page Mister Kid, if you give me the lowdown Me and Black Jack be ready for the showdown With two double-barrels
elbow kid I fuck chicks off Elmo Flicks My tape is off safety, tongue the gun Mouth to barrel, I spit, it numbs the front So what cha, what cha wanna
the street like lead in a barrel Decked out in my veteran apparel I drove aimlessly for miles until I saw this country that'd want me to kill; I took
with no chase My knife work like the guillotine sword Cut niggas, stop frontin' for my killa bee swarm, somethin' Empty out the whole clip and reload Shot gun barrel
the DJ, tell 'em Staten Island's In the house, put the record on replay [Ghostface Killah] Colorful kicks and my closet like Baskin-Robbins Central Park killings