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Livin' on fat pockets on flat wit tha gat |
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Rollin' around a nine deuce Cadillac |
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Still got my homies to watch my back |
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And they'll smoke ya ass if you wanna come and chat |
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That's why some pigs and the kids come sweatin', they follow |
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A hollow point shell's hard to swallow |
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Why wallow when you come to roll on? I put the clip |
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And before I bring ya ass on, what chu gonna do |
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Kickin' dust on your head like I bust |
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My grip surrounded, I'm about ta get rushed, I'm brushed wit death |
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How many shells stuffed in my closet, with my big Cognacs, cut |
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When tha shit goes down ya better be ready |
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(When tha shit goes down) |
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When tha shit goes down ya better be ready |
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(When tha shit goes down) |
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When tha shit goes down ya better be ready |
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(When tha shit goes down) |
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When tha shit goes down ya better be ready |
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(Ya better be ready) |
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I told tha boyz get tha sawed off glock |
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And tha rest of tha gats |
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As I strapped on tha bullet-proof vest |
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Boom I think I got one to tha chest |
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Hot damn I didn't want to kill a man shit |
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I still stand tall with tha Hill Clan |
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Y'all better stand back, niggaz 'bout ta fall |
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I'm comin out blastin like Yosemite Sam |
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Gt tha cheese an tha bread for tha ham |
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When tha shit goes down ya better be ready |
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(When tha shit goes down) |
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When tha shit goes down ya better be ready |
|
(When tha shit goes down) |
|
When tha shit goes down ya better be ready |
|
(When tha shit goes down) |
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When tha shit goes down ya better be ready |
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(Ya better be ready) |
