Tonalité : E minor
Verse 1
Am
Morele, this song's dedicated to my Darkonejo,
aka Kanjo, Mr. Perterous Flow.
Don't trip, fuck these fools.
A little rap jam from my right
-hand man.
Vámonos.
E
Another vato's bout to bite the dust.
Am
Fuck him with a cartel
E
that's murderous.
Am
E
I hold it down in my Southside town.
Am
Heard a buster got beef,
E
he know where to be found
Am
E
What the fuck? Another drive, I was up
Am
Killing everybody when the
weapons erupt
E
Am
Don't give a fuck,
E
everybody catching lead
Am
AKs, 47 rounds to the head
E
Am
E
Empty the mag, holla at you fags
Am
Thought you held it down,
now your body bag
E
Am
E
Here's the plan, do the job so neat
Am
Rid my enemies from the
E
poisonous streets
Am
Time to chill, lay low on the deal
E
Am
Cause Forensics looking
E
for my ID on the steel
Am
Ain't gonna hap pen,
E
did a professional hit
Am
E
No fingerprint or suspect to get
Am
Em
All my enemigas get blasted up
Am
Mastermind job, homie,
E
that's what's up
Am
Think you callin' shots,
E
homie, back on up
Am
Conejo, Enco, Porro,
E
fuck your whole day up
Am
All my enemigas get blasted up
Mastermind job, homie,
E
that's what's up
Am
Think you callin' shots,
homie, back on up
Conejo, Enco, Porro,
E
fuck your whole day up
Am
E
Yeah, you all buffed up with your tattoos
Am
E
So instead of catchin' one,
dawg, you're catchin' two
Am
E
Little cock, smokin' dissa on the internet
Am
I reach through your Macintosh
E
and break your neck
Am
Pipin' down your bitch,
E
punchin' your moms
Am
It's nothin' personal,
E
I'm doin' my job
Am
Tried to keep the beef wrapped,
E
but you called me out
Am
Now I got a infrared pointin'
E
at your house
Am
Where you at, homes?
E
Bitch made rapper
Am
I'm about to slap
E
you with a loaded clapper
Am
E
In a three -piece, clean and dapper
Am
Nobody at your funeral
E
cause it didn't matter
Am
E
Tryna be a G, man you got no school
Am
Acting all gumbalo, yes I got you the tool
E
Am
En emy goes crack when the
E
caps show up
Am
Haha, to fuck your whole day up
E
Am
Homeboy, all my enemy guys
Em
get blasted up
Am
Mastermind job,
homie that's what's up
E
Think you calling shots, homie back on up
Am
Go left, wake up home,
E
fuck your whole day up
Am
E
All my enemy guys get blasted up
Am
Mastermind job,
homie that's what's up
Think we callin' shots,
homie, back on up
Gon' have to work us hard,
E
fuck your whole day up
Am
Plottin' on your death,
E
it's a serious issue
Am
What you think I'd only
E
lyrically diss you?
Am
Charlie Holmes,
E
want someone to miss you
Am
Pointin' at you with two
E
loaded pistols
Am
You ain't worth a sixteen,
E
gonna point the beam
Am
E
Between your eyes, Saturday surprise
Am
E
Bring some tears to your half -eyes eyes
Am
You get a new tux, perfect size
E
Am
Got you a new box,
E
fuckin' with mines
Am
Tryin' to clown with your bullshit rhymes
E
Am
Used to do the bang shit,
E
then I did the slang shit
Am
Rhyme shit,
E
now it's back to the gang shit
Am
E
Roll deep with the S's that I hang with
Am
E
With my conjo up a twenty -fifth
Am
Little homies do the hideous shit
E
Am
You on the wrong side of town,
E
man, you catchin' a clip
Am
All my enemy guys get
E
blasted up
Am
Mastermind job, want me fast,
E
what's up?
Am
Think you callin' shots,
E
want me back on up
Am
Go left, go in, go home,
E
fuck your whole day up
Am
E
All my enemikas get blasted up
Am
E
Mastermind job, only that's what's up
Am
Think you're calling shots?
Hold me back, hold up
Kulejo and Kupo 'o,
E
fuck your whole day up
Am
That's right,
E
Am
Kulejo and Kupo 'o, imperial
E
Oleg Kulejo don't trip, dawg
Am
I'ma hold these bastards down
E
while you're out of town
Outro 1
Am
E
Am
E
Am
E
Am
E
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