[Intro][Joe Mafia]
|
Shit, pass the clubs it over here
|
Fuck, damn, yeah nigga thought it was soft
|
Get the fuck up nigga, no doubt
|
Niggas got Napolean down
|
Gassed their whole scene
|
|
[Napolean]
|
Yo, trial of the century, nosy bitches came from 50 states
|
Fans walked in with ten video tapes
|
I'mma wipped out, scored with these cats for three years
|
Ripped on em, now that fat cat livin in fear
|
Yo cream dun, grow into this dangerous hitman
|
Took both families out for a hundred grand
|
Right hand man, Curly haired kid from the alles
|
With bubbled eyed Benzes, diamond laced medallions
|
Murder plots, target it to what this fat cat from Miami,
|
Who flexed gold just on his Lex
|
But on one night, threw Rec Poison on his eye sight
|
Two hundred stitches required, for metal spikes
|
He survived though, but snitched like Sammy Grivana
|
Game info about this chick named Tiwanna
|
Who test about killin and needle, shootin villains
|
Underground stash location with six million
|
To take, revail straight mafia shit
|
Phillipino chick licked coke right off his dick
|
He paid the judge off, but still got assassinated
|
Stretched out like pussy wounds that dialeted
|
Murder cases, some foul and some fixed
|
Wu-Syndicate, we never leave finger prints
|
|
Chorus- Myalansky
|
Tonight we gonna murder, can't leave no fingerprints
|
Twist the silencer off, Myalansky, Napolean
|
Call my man Joe Mafia, suit up we goin in
|
Shisty can't leave no traces and shit
|
We barkin here
|
|
[Joe Mafia]
|
We in the crime scenes, straight shoot out
|
Who thugged his back out? I can't see him
|
One of the cats shot the lights out
|
Bacup, pick the gat up, Myalansky
|
I can't see Gotti, cover me we gotta shut this shit down dun
|
Turn around son, blow we bust one
|
So close it almost touched him
|
You aight son? I got this
|
He wanna jam son dun, you cop this?
|
They trying to leave a nigga rockless
|
When he came into the spot though
|
Watching Polio get dough
|
They flashed the fo-fo, heads barricated the door
|
We made our way out, with the flame out
|
With X amount, and the crack house stayin on point
|
Who thugged his back out?
|
|
Chorus
|
|
[Myalansky]
|
Tonight nigga, then's when we gettin them, said to Napolean
|
Meet with Joe Mafia first, and then we rollin in
|
Once again, same routine, twist on the silencers
|
Shh! There go them niggas, come on let's follow them
|
Pollyin, uppin at Lex within the prodigy
|
You fuck with that rep with that theme, whole town watchin him
|
Damn that bitch fed as shit yo, pass the binoculars
|
Now we gettin back in the car, forget we droppin them
|
Pull up on the side of his whip and starting sparkin him
|
Silencers on three fresh mats, no one was watchin kid
|
Though we never forget their ass
|
Stash the burners, no fingerprints
|
No rust say shit, routine, go head
|
|
Chorus
|
|
-----------------
|
The Hit
|
| Wu-Syndicate |
