First Verse:
My homie called me in the morning from a hospital bed
He got holes in his body from a glock full of lead
He said, three motherfuckers that his lady knows
Tried to jack his ass for his 84`s
Now in a Ben Taub sick bed, my homie lays up
He got sprayed up, cuz he wouldn`t raise
Caught three of the seven of the shots that rang
Them folks sayin` that he`d never walk the same
It sounds like a job for the uzi gat
And where the fuck did your bitch say these fools be at?
For a real long time, we been the best of friends
And I`ll be damned if a nigga don`t get revenge
I feel anger, that I`m no stranger to
Bustin` slugs in they guts just a thang to do
Why they pray for you, come and spray they crew
Got love for my homies, I thought you knew?
He said Los don`t sweat it, let this shit alone,
but with these punk motherfuckers I must pick a bone
Now will it be the cranium or the chest plate?
Necks break back, snap, put him in checkmate
Lead take me to vengeance, send this
Ripping through tendons I end this
Because you bleed inside and it hurts to cough
I can`t take no advice I gots to break them off
Chorus:
Cuz my revenge, it tastes so sweet, I gotta do,
What my friends, would do for me,
You muthafuckas gotta beg,
Y`all askin` for action,
Eat a fuckin` K,
I`m blastin` some asses
Cuz my revenge, it tastes so sweet, I gotta do,
What my friends, would do for me,
You muthafuckas gotta beg,
Y`all askin` for action,
Eat a fuckin` K,
I`m blastin` some asses
Second Verse:
My niggas check me, I`m thinkin` of a master plan
I`m straight up blastin` glocks, them fuckin` bastards ran
I`m steady missin` all my homies that done bit the dust
Got revenge cuz them bitches wasn`t shit to us
Now what the fuck can I accomplish?
And when I`m dead, will I find myself on God`s list?
Every night I give, thanks I wouldn`t die today
Turnin` cane into crack and my mic away
We dealin` cuz we feelin` that the, pay`s right
Hopin` Mama never see me at my, grave site
No daylight, play night cautiously
Could be death, or my freedom what it`s costin` me
Lost in dear life my wife be that Mary Jane
And my streets got me strollin` blueberry Lane
Very same song sung in the South
From the mouth of a hustler, never have I trusted a
Trick or a hoe or a dope fiend either
Cuz they smoke like a beaver buildin` dams on the river
Live a, life of a G` til` the d - a - y
Hittin` switches on the freeway high
Don`t reply cuz me don`t give a fuck
What you hoes got to say about me Hillwood funk
Chorus
Third Verse:
Stop short in your tracks
Gats got the place surrounded
Sounded two warning shots, fuck on up and you`ll be grounded
Pounded bodies with a bunch of twelve gauges
Now her face is too straight in the fuckin` dog cages
Pages of my book, turn like the wind blows
On the paper of a crook, muthafuck them hoes
Hittin` flows as a hustler, rose as a G
Saves his flows to big 8, now he scores half a ki
Some say in his head he got insanity inside
But all it really be is mathematically inclined
Look behind, you might find others takin` over
Rookies movin` cookies, they whipped in baking soda
Baby learn the fuckin` rules, my cheese, is SOLID AS A ROCK
With my homies and we BALLIN` WITH A GLOCK
Tenderoni phony fraud motherfuckers
Best to get out the game, `fore you die motherfuckers
Bustas trust us, but us hustlas trust no one
You can sure run with no gun
That be a nigga slow guns
So roll one of them sweets
Chug-a-lug on the eightball
And see where this motherfuckin life is gonna take y`all
And haters might fall
Chorus
