(feat. C-Bo) [C-Bo] Woke up at dawn got a page at five ten Head still spinnin' off that Gatorade and gin Stumbled to the bathroom, picked up my mobile phone Hit power plus the digits now I'm waitin' for roam Um shook my dick and on the line came Master P [Master P] I said what up Bo, I got a lick on some keys And we gon' do this shit like G's so meet me in the Bay I quarter mill in caine fool, so bring ya HK And get cho' gloves cause you gonna get cho' hands dirty Leave them fools trippin' I mean cold turkey And bring yo gat cause we gonna break em' to they knees And like you say Bo rat-heads get nothin' but cheese And don't forget to bring an ounce of that sticky dank So we be high as a bird as we hoo-ride on this gank [Hook x3: Master P] Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat Bo and Master P down to rat-tat-tat-tat [C-Bo] Got off the phone, been on for a half-hour Dropped my draws hopped off and took a shower Stepped out, put on my Guess and some K-Swiss Backed my Regal off the grass on to the pavement Hit I-80, west bound to Rich Town Strapped with the HK-40 ready to put that track down Spittin' that fire and niggas be retirin' Runnin' up for application when some niggas ain't hirin' I'm on a mission, takin' mine and gettin' yours Like I settled for, it's nothin' but that hardcore Me and Master P done hooked up on a murder hit Two niggas hoppin' off in the drop-top straight servin' shit So fools, break yourself drop me off or get dealt with AK cocked, one pop will make ya belt rip I'm in it to win, can't no nigga get away from the murder one rap And we out to get some so it's best if you ride around with ya strap [Hook x3] Dope in the car, they let the dogs loose to hound me I'm headin' for the county, a hundred g's for my fuckin' bounty Cause I'm a killer with no heart Mass murderin' fools bout to amputate they body parts Like Jeffrey Dahmer, that ain't no drama So here's yo ghetto pass, a one-way ticket to the Bahamas Ain't no love bitch, I thought chu' knew me I sit with this ho and these 32 kids, that nickel-plated uzi Master P and Bo is headed for that big jack Movin' to get cho' face cracked, infrared to yo back Should I shoot, get him for his loot No wait might hit him for his whole motherfuckin' suit Shoot em' up bang bang, gotta let my nuts hang Lettin' off rounds in my candy painted Mustang Hit a lick for some snow and did a drive-by Sliced it up and slanged it up on the setlike some Muslim bean pies Hit the highway with Bo back to the 916 Left the 510 cause we gon' double up to 26 Bumpin' 2Pac, motherfuckin' "Thug Life" Reminicin' on our dead homies all fuckin' night It was a drought so we crawdad I mean up the price cause this shit was movin' too fuckin' fast Gats cocked for the jackers Rollin' with the shackers Got this ho in the back talkin' shit, I just might smack her Pull over sideways I had to let the top down Dank comin' out the car like steam comin' off the ground Now we on our way to Burbank To the 213 and like B-Legit say it's gon' take three tanks So pull this motherfuckin' hog to the Philly station Start the grapevine, seen this fool slippin' on triple gold Daytons [Hook x3] [C-Bo] Doors down, got an extra clip for the HK fifteen rounds Adrenaline pumpin' as I lay everybody face down Should I kill them, no fill the bag He had more cash stashed off in the drop Jag Slammed his hand in the door, torture will make him speak Cocked my hammer, jammed my barrel through his fuckin' teeth Got him coughin' up, pissin' blood Cause a ballin' ass nigga didn't show no love Nigga, motherfuckers be gettin' they head twisted Ya best homeboy done turned into a rat, snitch, bitch Got cha' jacked slapped caught up in the rat pack While some niggas in all black, in some fake D.A. hats Jumpin' out of rental cras, up on ya front yard Runnin' through yo front door holdin' the four-four Yellin' jack time, crack minds And put this shit on record cause I can back mine [Hook with various ad-libs to fade]
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