(Z-Ro prelude)All you shirley ass niggas out here got the game fucked upOn this ol' friendly ass shitNigga, aint nothin friendly bout the mutha fuckin gameYou understand me?If you listen, I'ma tell you rightOpen your mutha fuckin earsShit, it aint fair but somebody gotta do itKnow'im'sayin?(Black Mike verse)I came from underground, where my hood resideNothin left but the bad and ugly, cuz the good dun diedWe tried to lay low, niggas wanna cross dem linesSo when I'm sayin so you getting bumped off this timeFuck a throwaway, I'm lookin for the gun at your houseTo kill your family for some shit they aint know nothin aboutWe runnin the South while other niggas runnin they mouthIf you smart, you'll take cover cuz we comin your routeCuz when we ride you can best believe it's guns insideHow many times momma cried cuz her sons dun died?I pull my nine out, all of my barrels are filed outSo the bullets that i bust, the feds don't find outWhich gun, which nigga, which finger point to the trigger manStill well connected not worried bout who's the bigger manZ-Ro, my nigga manPhoaroah, the killa klanI'm Black Mike, networked for life, aint no realer jam(Z-Ro chorus)We make sure the dirty work get doneReal gun properly mounted and weighs a tonScratch makers, nigga we killas, aggravated gorillasBeen pimpin in this bitch for skrillaWe make sure the dirty work get doneReal gun properly mounted and weighs a tonScratch makers, nigga we killas, puttin heads on pillowsFuck around and weep like a willow, we cap peelers(Pharoah verse)King size killa creep inPut these hoein haters sleep, murderin the kingpinMy composer, a soldier, you can call me OneWhen it's time to ride you know I'm ready to activate my gunStraight head shots, toe tagged in the body bagThats the outcome you stuck with if I gotta blastI'm comin to get you, put your punk ass out the pictureIf theres a price on your head that means ima get richerP-H-A-R-O-A-HNow you know my mutha fuckin name, I never play fakeEasy does it, do it easy when I executeSend a nigga at the dark side when my weapon shootShoot again and realize i just made bondWith no evidence to be found I remain calmMurder magician, I make a muthafucker disappearSlip the clip in, open fire, and drip in here(chorus)(Z-Ro verse)I put stitches in the chin of a son of a bitch nigga when he bumpFuck runnin to the trunk for the pump, I'm already ready to dumpI been workin dirty, knockin busters for bein shirleySo I'm at your door cuz unlike James, you aint WorthyLike a little ol' girly perpetrating a manDude we takin over this bitch and here to demonstrate demandsAnd bitch the down south gangsta R-A-P, nineteen ninetyStarted with Street Military and K-A-TWe toe taggin, body baggin, saggin and bragginHit it up and laid it down, we slap shot and flipped the meat wagonSome say we some son-of-a-gunsBut as long as we one of the ones on top, haters smell it and runnin to cumTryna drop a dime on us or tryna take us outAfter we deal with it, we rap about it and then it make us hotFuck your crime rate and murder rateRubberneckin in TRUEston, TexasBoy we'll bump you off for tryna focus on a bird today(chorus x2)
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