Ah, shit, I'm sick of niggas jumpin' up with choppers, Runnin' for your shit, tryin' to make another nigga stop ya. But it's on, 'cause you up against a real nigga. I steal niggas and kill niggas, I'm the real nigga. You up against a motherfucker with a quick temper. I'm a born killer, in case you don't remember. I got my pistol, but I got a different clip in it. Click-click, motherfuckers, can you get with it? You ain't the nigga that you thought you was, fool, And now I'm after that ass on the cool. It's all about survival of the fittest, Nigga, you shouldn'a did this. And now I got's to handle my business; I got to get your ass up out the picture. I ain't the nigga you want to fuck with, Motherfucker, I wouldn't bullshit ya. Now look at what you stuck with: The last nigga in this motherfucking world you shouldn'a fucked with. I'm leavin' niggas in bodybags. You shouldn'a fucked with the Brad. You punk motherfucker, I'm comin' agg... Mr., Mr. Scarface, for the nine-trey. Niggas packin' nines, fuck you, bitch, I pack an A.K. Fully automatic, for you hos who want to jack this. S.A. fool, and I'ma put you on your back, bitch. Ain't no half-steppin', I'm comin' at you rough-like. Shootin' to kill, 'cause back in school I had enough fights, Whenever I bucked my knuckles up on a nigga's head. So you can sling 'em all you want, but I be slingin' leg, Cause like I said before, I'm a motherfucking dreadlock, Putting fools in headlocks, giving niggas head shots. And everybody in your motherfucking area Is trying to scrape up some money, so they can help to bury ya. But I can give a motherfucker about your family, Because your family ain't my fuckin' family. You should of thought before you stepped to tha Nigga in black, standin' right here, next to ya. I'm stoppin' motherfuckers from breathin'. Just gimme a reason, and I'ma be squeezin' The trigger of this motherfucking glock, pop-pop, until you drop From these motherfucking gunshots, And leave your whole fuckin' family sad. Don't fuck with the Brad, motherfucker, Cause Brad's comin' agg Where the cocksuckers at, where the cocksuckers at? (Where they at? Where they at?) (There they go,) at my gat. Cause I'm about to heat up, like a vet. Chop shit down on your set and then jet, And smash off in my soap box. Cause I'm down for the dirt, and motherfucker said it don't stop. Now, which one of you hos want to fuck? Make your way to your truck, I want to see the way that you jump. Cause by the time you get your keys I'm letting loose, motherfucker, lay 'em down, nigga, and get these. It ain't shit for me to watch 'em fly. So die, motherfuckers, die, motherfuckers, die, die. I ain't no motherfucking good guy, dog, And I don't give a good guy damn about none of y'all. I'm from the state of the motherfucking, gunslingers, Knockin' dicks in the dirt with just this one finger. So get your ass caught up in this gangsta shit, And I'ma try my best to make it stank, you bitch. Plus you comin' with that fake drag. You fallin' dead on your ass, you motherfucker. I'm comin' agg
Written by: JOSEPH JOHNSON, BRAD JORDAN
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
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