Some think that I'm a flake, but I'm no fake n***a cause I
Drink a b**h, make him a witch and burn his a** at the stake
With the .44 mag it's so simple
Put it to his temple, f** it, I give a n***a permanent dimples
Easing up on the fast slow, but I let your a** know
The block's too hot like Tabasco
Brand New Heavies on the tracks, G Rap on the wax
Cold bumping, got motherf**ers doing jumping jacks
You motherf**ers lost it
I bake your a** like a cake and all y'all flakes get frosted
Cause when G Rap is on the mix
n***as start sh**ting bricks and turning into chick with small dicks
So a b**h, lyrics with a live band
(Yo this sh** is funky) Yo f** funky, the sh** hit the fan
Shame if you're stepping to my set
You n***as get wet, nah f** it, it's just a motherf**ing d**h threat
Yeah, I got you b**hes on lockdown, you n***as get knocked down
You're running cause I'm gunning your block down, punk
So save the b**h riff cause my four-fifth lifts
I'm tossing stiff off of f**ing cliffs
Get close, I got you on scope, you walking on thin rope
So I'm a shoot 'em up like dope
Cause to make my notes I'm a cut throats
Bodies are thrown off boats and do a dead man's float
Straight down a river
Huh, with a bullet inside his motherf**ing liver
Another hooker got thrown out
Stepped right into the crossfire and got her brains blown out
So you n***as better buck
Cause when my coat's full of buckshots, I don't give a f**
You think you're down with the murder guys
Bullsh**, say hello to that dirt you're gonna fertilize
You wonder why the area's stark
Homicides just fell ten bones since our car drove
When they opened the other trunks that were closed
Full of five unidentified John Does
All found dead on arrival
Cause I pulled up slowly and made 'em holy like Bibles
They find a letter and ca**ette
Red and said it's just a motherf**ing d**h threat
Send the bodies to the morgue for a freezing
I got the motherf**ing finger on the trigger cause it's n***a season
A punk tried to drop me
I left the body sloppy so they can't perform an autopsy
Dig a hole for the b**h
And put all his pieces and bits inside a ditch
Yo, you don't think you're going under
I got a bullet with your name, your address, and your phone number
So if you want to play games
I'm blowing you the f** out the frame
You tried to front and got murdered last night
So now you float to the motherf**ing light
So I'm a step to your grave and make a toast
And start shooting at your motherf**ing ghost
So may the Lord be with ya
Cause I ain't no saint and I don't paint pretty pictures
It ain't nothing but bloodshed
Stains of brains on the rug and less blood in your head
You want to make me upset?
Huh, then I'm a promise you a motherf**ing d**h threat