|
You know you done fucked up? |
|
You know you done fucked up, don't ya? |
|
Nigga you really fucked up. |
|
We on a muthafuckin mission. |
|
I'm ridin dirty with my tru muthafuckas. |
|
Fiend, steady mobbin', c-murder in this bitch. |
|
Retaliation is a must. |
|
Dumpin rounds on my muthafuckin adversaries. |
|
[c-murder] |
|
Nigga, nigga ridin dirty for revenge |
|
With my friends, i'm on a caper |
|
Ready to kill 'em, if i see 'em |
|
Fuck alarm, hold my paper |
|
I'm a rider, so i leave 'em where i left 'em |
|
When i creep, niggas sleep |
|
And they ain't restin til they deep up in the concrete |
|
Jungle with them slangers, with them bangers and them hustlers |
|
With them killers, smokin woo and makin deals with my tru niggas |
|
Fiend had some yay, so we flipped it on the block |
|
Steady mobbin' flew from cali so we put 'em up on the spot |
|
Servin dub sacks and flippers, fifty shots and quarter bags |
|
Raisin riches no matter week, servin keys out paper bags |
|
And hustlin hard, countin money by the sack |
|
Watch my back, niggas jack |
|
Sweet revenge, counter attack up in my 'lac |
|
Sippin hennesy and chronic, i'm the tweak for some magic |
|
Rollin the window, nigga, it's him so pistol playin bout to have it |
|
Fuckin bullets gots no name nigga you name is on this one |
|
Ridin dirty with my tru bitches so nigga on a mission |
|
[chorus:] (lines echo in background) x 4 |
|
In on a mission, ridin dirty with my tru thugs |
|
Retaliation, dumpin rounds, with no love |
|
[fiend] |
|
Fiend, my reason to gunplay |
|
Loadin my chopper right up the one way |
|
Wishin we facin a dead end |
|
So i could show how this gun spray |
|
Just one damn word, that's all i desire |
|
So i could bend these niggas back like chicken wire |
|
Spittin fire, mobbin, s'on when them bullets get to pourin |
|
(..?..) get my adrenalin goin |
|
I ain't ignorin, no problems, no worries baby |
|
I severed the crusher, and buried my (..?..) |
|
Over the dresser, fiend the trigga my lesser |
|
Gon test ya, with a season to kill |
|
And catch me celebratin across the battlefield |
|
Loco, this is the deal, let's put the gun |
|
To the small of his neck, we got caught up and blast |
|
Until there's nothing left, boy |
|
I thought some more niggas kept, what? what? |
|
Cause i ain't facin prison |
|
Exercising my right to exorcism |
|
Completed my mission, huh? |
|
By lettin the land just listen |
|
Cause they the reason my lil homie ain't livin |
|
So, we on a mission |
|
Chorus x 4 |
|
[steady mobbin' 1] |
|
(..?..) the cleaner, alias saddam, nigga |
|
(what's up there?) cold cop killers |
|
Now it's really on (what's up fool?) |
|
Being crooked, we do it dirty, (we doing it!) |
|
C-murder and fiend (there they go!) |
|
We dump the fifty round magazine |
|
Locin and mobbin, til it's clean (make sure it's clean) |
|
Hooked up with the colonel, and the billy, cause i need cream |
|
Fifteen five, made twenty five, six hummer size (nigga!) |
|
Muthafuckas died, (nigga!) all in one night (they die!) |
|
[steady mobbin' 2] (a lot of these lines are overlapped by screams, |
|
Gunshots, etc. hard to understand...) |
|
Pulled the trigga on my nigga (not my nigga, damn!) |
|
As the forty caliber shell, blew up in the neck |
|
Twice in the head, he was dead 'fore his body hit the ground |
|
(damn dog, don't go nigga!) |
|
Bitches scream, nigga (..?..) |
|
Pull up next to the bodies, i was runnin |
|
My dog's head was blew off |
|
I'm bustin hella (?) (buck, buck, buck) |
|
Hit the driver's side window, as they crash into a pole |
|
(..?..), with a few left in the clip |
|
Some for the driver, the passenger |
|
And the rest of the trigger men |