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Yo, yo, yo
|
Once, once again
|
Know what I'm saying?
|
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Chorus:
|
|
Darkman stay on the street with a tool
|
For these devil worshippers wit' gats and these ignorant fools
|
Find yourself in the hustle rocking free mint shoes
|
Middle week, Michigan brand rap and gun rule
|
|
Verse 1:
|
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Me and my man contemplating on these future operations
|
For night clubs two four shit packed like cases
|
I'm nineteen paid young can only get better
|
Got cheese in the war trying to be enormous cheddar
|
Fuck a Fugees sweater stay Wu-Wear fly polo
|
Pepe jeans new boots kid labelled in solo
|
Rolled my dolo, killed from the east
|
Me and Reef left them twenty hour stole four bricks 100 G's
|
Twenty-five a piece straight in they mind that's what it's like
|
Peace to my man Ted who got hit on New Jersey's turnpike
|
I send a kite, wit a hundred in your money order
|
Hol' it down in your cage see you back at headquarters
|
Everything is fine LA blow spots like landmines
|
Do the knowledge as I kick seven deadly signs
|
>From the glock that'll make city streets boom dock
|
The industry is calling me like Cookie wit' rocks
|
And I can't stop, cocoa plants grow in large crops
|
Darkman east coast hip hop pad lock
|
I'm determined to kill the mic like Jews and Germans
|
Shoot a shell through your chest and leave your rib-cage burnin'
|
While you smiling I got forty-five to life on Rapper's Island
|
49507 what you dialling, fight faster pushing up deluxe Dutchmaster
|
Enter my potential of script it might flash you,
|
Wit impact, of a two hundred pound wind,
|
See you chased by Wu-wolves wit' no way to escape
|
Do it from the mouth, crush bones cause this is my house
|
And I'm prejudice give Mark Clayman like whiteys down south
|
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Chorus
|
|
Verse 2:
|
|
Aiyyo, I'm hungry like 3 lions starving in a crack house
|
Wid guns galore taking Jakes to war
|
Don't challenge the score from here to Van Couver
|
I stand wit' this Lex Luger stashed in the Couger
|
Going through you like needles from Phd's
|
On any demon, drunken wit' 41 thieves,
|
Crack fiends drug dealers and killers run the block
|
3 thieves wid' binoculars surveillance to drop
|
A credit dot little Nookie got hit wid' a shot
|
>From a 4-4 calibre government glock in front of the shop
|
Equivalent to gun galleries I better keep the eye locked
|
Show and prove I'm doing Gs trying to teach these 100 Gs
|
If I hol' nines I freaked it,
|
To getting all this money is a ancient Chinese secret
|
The liquid, LA can sit down like a precint
|
I'm flippin' on you MCs for no fucking reason
|
|
Chorus
|
|
Yeah, You know what time it is
|
Gun Rules, You know what I'm sayin'?
|
Yo, Word Up, Yo, yo
|
|
Verse 3:
|
|
I spent about 20 Gs on weed as I proceed
|
To grow up fill my weight 100 Gs
|
Stacking loot, known to kept blood on my boots
|
Trapacane burning blazing outta fifth hundred coupes
|
So what you stupe?, I freezin' ya blind to sub-zero
|
And kept all devil killers like Robert Shapiro
|
The LA brings action packed heat like De Niro
|
I'm ancient in this rap shit king like a Pharoah
|
A terror, terminatin' false niggas style
|
Kill a man, his woman, MC and his child
|
Shit is wild I hold niggas hostage like Riker's Isle
|
Gotta deceptive, murderous money gettin' smile
|
I'm the judge while you on trial supreme, Killa Bee
|
A serpent LA can bite the whole industry
|
..Motherfucker
|
|
Darkman stay on the streets wit' a tool
|
For these devil worshipping gat slingers and ignorant fools
|
Find yourself in the hustle rocking free mint shoes
|
Middle week, Michigan brand rap and gun rule
|
|
Gun rule, Gun rule
|
|
Chorus
|
|
Triple Darkness
|
Sing-sing
|
|
|
|
-----------------
|
Gun Rule
|
| La the Darkman |
