Ghosting His Ass... Part II

Gee, kill that light    
You got it my Queen, this fuck about to get served since we bringing the gun fight      
Have my crew to crash in and nobody moves until I say when      
Fuck his ass up, make him bleed, and shoot his twin      
These hustlers been getting away with some straight up bullshit      
Stealing these Cartels dope      
Reselling it for half price the pure cut, now ain’t that bout a bitch      
My Queen, I think it’s youngsters inside      
If so, aim high while I blindfold they eyes      
Mothefuckas should  know who I am, and I take no shit      
I can Glock your ass while still sucking a hard dick      
And hack up any bitches who steps out of line with the stomping of my stiletto tip      
My Queen, there that punk ass fuck go      
On the count of there...let’s roll, let’s make this plan flow      
        
At..at..at you move or reach for that weapon on your hip your bitch ass is dead      
Bullets holes with your name on them to put you to bed      
On your knees, now      
My finger is itching on the trigger to hear that pow-pow      
Gee, check his country looking ass      
Another man’s treasure is about to put you out with the trash      
Check the chamber take the bullets out then give me him weapon      
Not your day, partner, not when my hollow points will be your last earthly blessing      
Bring him over here, he gives you any mouth      
Subdued his ass by shooting him, making sure he gets no taste of any female’s wet south      
That’s cold, my Queen, in his dick      
Word up, no doubt      
Back to you, word on the street, your go that black magic cane, and we want a piece, and no is not an option      
Or hell your ass will meet      
       
Did you really think you could run your mouth, your boys sell us out and get away what that      
A little reminder what we do to snitches and bitches      
Gee, whack him over the head with my baseball back      
Yeah… that’s what’s I like to see drips of blood      
In times like this, ain’t no honesty among thieves, no love      
You on my territory and rolling up, what, you got your chest out with your big guns      
I’m the Queen in these parts, somebody ought to told you that son      
       
Gee, stand this pink ass nigga up      
It’s about time your life come down to Russia Roulette or acid to your body will be felt      
I only have one bullet in your chamber, you best pray for luck      
If not, your bitch is already sold while I pimp her ass our for a street fuck      
Gee, hold him real still      
Fuck yeah, you ask am I on the real      
This is what my crew call, using you as a marker while making mass quantity dopes deals      
To the Cartels, your body as collateral when we don’t have those large currency bills      
And your time is up      
So, as my Gee would say, what the fuck      
I hate long goodbyes… shoot him      
I’m fair, and I cannot, leave his ass standing on some missed      
bullet whim      
       
You want me to cement his shoes      
Hold on, let me carve my initials in his palms, a reminder for his crew to let those fucks know you fuck over me you pay your dues      
It will cost your life, and you damn right, its gonna hurt      
The river I toss your charred remains, or six feet I will put you, while your ass kissing dirt      
       
Let’s go and get this dope, his bitch, and his cash Gee      
After that I need you to get the Russan Cartels on the line, we need to call peace      
       
Done my Queen