Lyrics: James T Crawford
Music: James T Crawford
(Bleh) Yeah, okgutta
All black Beretta
Nine millimeter, slapped sights on the top of the slide (Uh-huh, yeah)
Got two beams on that bitch
Purple green on that bitch, hulk smash on the ride (Yeah, uh-huh)
He tried to run, bullets ripped through his Purple jeans
Hit his legs, he paralyzed (Veggie, yeah)
Made him bleed for that shit
He gon' scream like a bitch, I was watchin' him die (Bitch)
Popped five pinks on a hit
I was noddin' off, spinnin' at the same damn time (Homicide)
I'm thinkin' 'bout homicide every time I fall asleep
Murder stay on my mind (On my mind)
I'm tryna whack him
I'm tryna kill them all slowly one slice at a time (Yeah)
Tryna push up on me that's like committin' suicide
Bullets bounced around his mind (Yeah)
I've been thinkin' 'bout digging him, brodie
Ripper tips hit him and blow up inside him (Yeah)
Where the **** are you goin'?
I split his face four ways, I divide him (I divide him)
Closed casket, his family gone miss him
Wish they could get buried beside him (Yeah)
Took off his face, left him unrecognizable
Took his inside, turned them out of him (Yeah)
I turned every five into fifty
I'm gettin' that guap, what the **** are you out of it (What the ****?)
Boy I will put you out of it
Five fifty-six hit him once now he out of it (Okgutta)
From the way that he look
You would think I kept shootin' and stood over top of him (Yeah)
Put five in his top
I just melted his brain but, I'll keep on tappin' him (Keep on tappin' him)
Like Deadshot Daiquiri, if I pop a Perc I'ma keep head tappin' him (Head tappin' him)
Put a whole damn bag on him
Bring back his head on a trap I'ma ash on it (Yeah)
He dissed, I caught him slippin'
First forty-eight, I went put the ratchet on him (Bitch)
Death is loomin' over you
Real grim reaper I'll put the casket on him (What the)
Bloods leakin' out of you, I threw a couple .308's on him
Stuntin' with an MPK on me 'til there's blood leakin' out of you
7.62's devour you, I'm reekin' havoc with a K on me
I won't stop until his brains mushy, every organ turned to baby food
I'm in Milton with illegal tools in case a nigga try to get up on me
He said he gon' pull the trigger on me, better hope I don't run into you
Dump the whole mag onto you, don't run, you cannot get away from me
I'm not letting shit get past me, I'm not the one you wanna run into
The last one you'd wanna bump into, chances are I got a weapon on me
I can turn you to a memory, but they ain't even gon' want to remember you
They probably better off forgetting you, cause the scene was so damn grizzly
Casket closed inside a cemetery, they couldn't get the final looks at you