Foul Cats

by Kool G Rap

Nathaniel Thomas Wilson (born July 20, 1968), better known by his stage names Kool G Rap (or simply G Rap, and originally Kool Genius of Rap) is an American rapper. He hails from the Corona neighborhood of Queens, New York City. He began his career in the mid-1980s as one half of the group Kool G R…

[Intro/Outro: repeat 2X ]
 Foul cats scheamin up the setup 
 Tryin to leave me and my cream wet up 
 Two in the head leaded up 
 Call the coroners to make they bed up 
 Infrared shit from neck up 
 Before they got to lit the tec up 
 [Kool G Rap] 
 It was a setup my nigga got hit they blew his chest up 
 The hollow tips ripped his vest up son is messed up 
 and blessed up; call my cast up it's time to dress up 
 Four-fifth and Smith-n-Wessed up, ready to press up 
 and fuck their nest up, the enemy is Hennessey to sessed up 
 Actin up, hit my motherfuckin man up 
 Never again will he stand up, yo Big Jan hook the plan up 
 Pull the masks, pull the van up 
 These niggaz tryin to hit the fam up; these small times cats 
 Yo fuck that, I can't see that, where them niggaz be at? 
 Where they hang at? Where they live at? Where they slang at? 
 (Aiyyo Son one is a known cat, he walk around with the chrome gat 
 This hoodrat know where the nigga home at) 
 Well here's a quarter baby, go and phone that 
 This motherfucker bout to get his shit blown back 
 His whole dome clapped, we cock back the gats and started cruisin 
 Up the boulevards and avenues-n, I'm short fusin 
 and two biscuit usin; mad hot but, not in the mood for losin 
 We hit the strip pickin up clues and 
 we on the heels of this nigga shoes and 
 out the blue when, we see the chick the nigga screwin 
 Pushin his whip with the ice cuban 
 Hemmed her up sweet, put heat to her wig piece, the zig piece 
 to this nig's beefs, this bitch named Charise 
 from East New York, listen bitch, you better talk 
 Or get your whole frame surrounded, with white chalk 
 Pulled the rat in back of the van, bitch we don't want you 
 we want your man, you understand? 
 The hoe said, "Please, I got his house keys, the nigga got 
 five keys and mad cheese, a hundred G's" 
 Lie to me bitch you gettin one of these 
 Four-five see's in both knees, she said, "Honestly I promise G 
 I'm not lying," then the hoe started crying 
 We hit the road me and my niggaz flying 
 to the crib in Jackson Heights, the nigga live three flights up 
 He type buck, but I ain't givin a fuck 
 Grab his bitch up, make the hoe go first in case 
 the nigga buck, open the door up, and put the stunt in front 
 Then we all started creepin, he stretched out 
 up on the sofa sleepin, yeah me and my cats standin there 
 just peepin, money's about to get laced 
 My nigga Ty threw a glass of whiskey in his face 
 Big Jan ready to blaze the place; he on his way 
 to Amazing Grace -- nigga woke up and saw the big guns 
 Me and my two sons, he knew he was done 
 You hurt a loved one, step back about to let him have one 
 Yo fuck that, aiyyo black, where the sack of heroin at? 
 I'm bout to give cat some motherfuckin railroad tracks 
 We dumped the whole bag inside a spoon and left the room 
 to heat that, and came right back, yo grab the nigga arm black 
 Put raw shit in the nigga vein, watch the needle drain 
 Went from being restrained to mad 'tane 
 Less than a moment nigga started zonin 
 His mouth foamin, lookin like he possessed by The Omen 
 His bitch was reachin for the phone and, I had to smack her 
 with the chrome and, left her on the floor moanin 
 Cocked back, I had to finish this, know my stee' 
 we leave no witnesses, shot and got the fuck out the premises 


Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

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