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You About To Get Served And Straight Dealt (Ghosting That Ass IV Of V)
My Queen, the Mexican Cartel want a sit down meeting with you
Nobody wants an all out war in the streets between the crews
Gee, how long have you known me
I will fuck you up or shoot you in your head while you on your knees
Adversity and taking a nigga out, while you half past dead, bleeding out, and still begging for your life with a oh no, pretty please
And bring me that weird looking ass bitch, I heard he was the inside snitch
just make sure to keep your hand on the trigger in case the fuck gives you some of that West Coast lip
His mouth been circuiting around the hood
Its time I bend his ass over and make my Rottweiler give him his hard wood
I feel you, my Queen, that poser has been talking some dumb ass shit
And he not even a Crip
Well, its time he feels the burn from my Glock when it clicks
Then send his bitch ass mama a white rose
And keep a car spotted on his family's crib in case we have to TNT when we flow
Make sure you send his ripped out heart in a box in farewell
In remembrance to her son for talking out the side of his mouth, before I sent his ass to hell
But before you snuff him out
Stuff those thorns as far down his mouth
Until the Coroner have no choice but to pull them out from down south
Bash his head in to let him or his peeps know neither cannot float my boat
Damn Gee, you best not bring this war
Fuck that shit, that nigga selling wolf tickets, led pierced my thigh, now he can feel the heat of my Smith & Wesson roar
Thank goodness it was just a flesh wound
And you will be sitting at the head of your table real soon
Since this motherfucker craves the spotlight
The shit goes down tonight
Make those shell casings pop-pop when my Hummer swerves
Riddle his body then toss his bloody remains on the curve
And make sure you brand my initials in his palm with my hot poker
To let his crew know they about to get straight served
I feel you, My Queen… and that’s word
And then we go after those Russian fucks who can’t respect the game
Bullets from my Glock and Forty-Five have no names
You supposed to be resting up, my Queen, staying on the down low
Revenge is a dish best served cold
We will kill those fucks and then take their money and the dope
And bring me that fuck who is responsibility for this
Man, woman, a dick or a clit
You got it, my Queen
And Gee
Keep the hit clean
No doubt...
Nobody wants an all out war in the streets between the crews
Gee, how long have you known me
I will fuck you up or shoot you in your head while you on your knees
Adversity and taking a nigga out, while you half past dead, bleeding out, and still begging for your life with a oh no, pretty please
And bring me that weird looking ass bitch, I heard he was the inside snitch
just make sure to keep your hand on the trigger in case the fuck gives you some of that West Coast lip
His mouth been circuiting around the hood
Its time I bend his ass over and make my Rottweiler give him his hard wood
I feel you, my Queen, that poser has been talking some dumb ass shit
And he not even a Crip
Well, its time he feels the burn from my Glock when it clicks
Then send his bitch ass mama a white rose
And keep a car spotted on his family's crib in case we have to TNT when we flow
Make sure you send his ripped out heart in a box in farewell
In remembrance to her son for talking out the side of his mouth, before I sent his ass to hell
But before you snuff him out
Stuff those thorns as far down his mouth
Until the Coroner have no choice but to pull them out from down south
Bash his head in to let him or his peeps know neither cannot float my boat
Damn Gee, you best not bring this war
Fuck that shit, that nigga selling wolf tickets, led pierced my thigh, now he can feel the heat of my Smith & Wesson roar
Thank goodness it was just a flesh wound
And you will be sitting at the head of your table real soon
Since this motherfucker craves the spotlight
The shit goes down tonight
Make those shell casings pop-pop when my Hummer swerves
Riddle his body then toss his bloody remains on the curve
And make sure you brand my initials in his palm with my hot poker
To let his crew know they about to get straight served
I feel you, My Queen… and that’s word
And then we go after those Russian fucks who can’t respect the game
Bullets from my Glock and Forty-Five have no names
You supposed to be resting up, my Queen, staying on the down low
Revenge is a dish best served cold
We will kill those fucks and then take their money and the dope
And bring me that fuck who is responsibility for this
Man, woman, a dick or a clit
You got it, my Queen
And Gee
Keep the hit clean
No doubt...
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