not doing full songs anymore just small parts
Yo, uh, it's Task Force Tuesday, the NARCS is in the black car
I got fine hundred, hundred packs in my backyard
Clear twelve-twelve's, that look like stuff shells
I'm cuttin' niggaz throats on the sails, while they puff L's
Don't leave nothin' unbagged, shave everything
I learned from the O.G.'s to save everything (to save everything)
They come by one more time, they gon' hop out
They two deep, and one is a bitch, she gettin' knocked out
Then I can get rid of the pack
but I just copped this pretty chrome thing, so I'm dippin' with that
Uh, down-shiftin' on 'em like I got gears on me
(Run!) Besides that, I got about 5 years on me
(Run!) Scared to death, runnin' like I got bears on me
(Run!) My Timb's start feelin' like they Nike Air's on me
(Run!) It's hard for me to slow down, it's like I'm on the Throughway
My belt's in the crib on the floor by my two-way
Now I'm try'nna hold my hammer up, and my pants too
If they don't kill me, they gon' give me a number I can't do
Rather it be the streets, then jail where I die at
And I'm ashmatic, so I'm lookin' for somewhere to hide at
But they too close, and I got this new toast
'Magine if I would of let off a shot or two, you know what I gotta do
