Lyrics:

Where it at Where it at

Uhh

[repeat 3x]



[Verse 1]

ohh do he rhyme with a slut from the shots in his face or

do He rhyme wit a slut tryin' ta sound like mase

Listened to his tape, this lil' nigga used to sound like Cake

Maybe I'm juss killin, maybe he juss snitchin

See a whole lot different from my cell in Clinton

what I see is straight bird, straight girl

Yea he be a killa,you kill the words

rather look at the facts and not the hype

Like who got shot and who got knife-ds

Who keep gettin struck, but don't neva strike

Hope the beef go away but the feds indict

I know yo card nigga, it's so clear

You juss wanna sell record you don't want warfare

You don't wanna ride you wanna get rich and hide

cause niggaz would've died if they shot me nine times

Hey it's juss for the record

Take this mob shit serious, please respect it



[Hook]

hear we go with shots that rip'em apart

Cuz it's a blood comin outta his heart

It's murdah bloody homicide is what they cry

When they losin' their life

muhfuckaz ax me how I sleep at night

Pretty good witta slur an my heat held tight

Pray to god while I'm gone, is what underneath feels like

Finish my work on this earth and turn off the lights (verse 2]



You ain't kill homi(cide) 'cause if you did

Why you ain't get the kid that ordered the hit

You know I know, that if you live

That shit that you spit, somebody got somebody

Somebody got jumped, somebody got cut

You a boxer nigga, nobody got shot

Nobody got flushed, you screamin what what

Okay okay killa you's a slut

Tinkerbelle, enough is enough

its time to show 'em who's who

And what is what

I mean how can I respect you

When them niggaz that love you ain't none of 'em thug you

(not 1 body)

You know where they are, where they perform

Bust yo gun, stop makin songs

Please no more ghetto quran

You got money now it's time to bomb

And that's juss from the time

Take this mob shit serious please respect it



hear that boy the shots they rip 'em apart [2x]

Cuz it's a blood comin outta his heart



[Verse 3]

Death of perfection as I move witout motion

Ain't no nigga in his game doin the shit that I'm quotin'

Take a good look 'cause you'll neva a see another of me

Might be sum otha g's tryna trace n color me

But I believe in the ways of old

When I slit a fools throat tryna tell on po

That shouldn't excist, fuckin snitch

Cut of his dick, put it on his lips

You really think I was gon' let you slide

Fuckin wit me you must be outcho mind

You really think sorry was gon' make thinks right

Nigga I will shoot you till you lose yo life

I was mindin' my own, word got back, niggaz talkin bout po

I was like ohh, god must be ready fo this nigga to go(pop pop)

Gangland this is the mob

You got yo break come finish yo job

Juss don't get the feds involved

And I'mma reunite you wit yo moms

Rip

I guess this ain't juss music

Cuz jail only made me much mo' ruthless (nigga)

And the bitch nigga knew this

That's why he tryed to sign me to g-unit(nah)

Tell 'em how you made me offers

(I don't run with that blood I'mma godfather)

Loved on every street corner

Hurts yo heart that you don't get that honor

The feds I paid fo that

10 years up top

not 7 monthz shop

i walked the yard with blood

Took the bus wit cuz

Went gun fo gun

I earned my love

You, you juss pathetic

You will neva be G, despite yo efforts

Take this mob shit serioue, you gon' respect it

Tha's juss fo the record



[Hook]

hear we go with the shots that rip'em apart

Cuz it's a blood comin outta his heart

It's murdah bloody homicide is what they cry

When they losin' their life

muhfuckaz ax me how I sleep at night

Pretty good witta slur an my heat held tight

Pray to god while I'm gone, is what underneath feels like

Finish my work on this earth and turn off the lights