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Headin' 4 the Jack

Sammie

Letra

    [c-bo]
    Woke up at dawn got a page at five ten
    Head still spinnin' off that gatorade and gin
    Stumbled to the bathroom, picked up my mobile phone
    Hit power plus the digits now i'm waitin' for roam
    Um shook my dick and on the line came master p

    [master p]
    I said what up bo, i got a lick on some keys
    And we gon' do this shit like g's so meet me in the bay
    I quarter mill in caine fool, so bring ya hk
    And get cho' gloves cause you gonna get cho' hands dirty
    Leave them fools trippin' i mean cold turkey
    And bring yo gat cause we gonna break em' to they knees
    And like you say bo rat-heads get nothin' but cheese
    And don't forget to bring an ounce of that sticky dank
    So we be high as a bird as we hoo-ride on this gank

    [hook x3: master p]
    Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat
    Bo and master p down to rat-tat-tat-tat

    [c-bo]
    Got off the phone, been on for a half-hour
    Dropped my draws hopped off and took a shower
    Stepped out, put on my guess and some k-swiss
    Backed my regal off the grass on to the pavement
    Hit i-80, west bound to rich town
    Strapped with the hk-40 ready to put that track down
    Spittin' that fire and niggas be retirin'
    Runnin' up for application when some niggas ain't hirin'
    I'm on a mission, takin' mine and gettin' yours
    Like i settled for, it's nothin' but that hardcore
    Me and master p done hooked up on a murder hit
    Two niggas hoppin' off in the drop-top straight servin' shit
    So fools, break yourself drop me off or get dealt with
    Ak cocked, one pop will make ya belt rip
    I'm in it to win, can't no nigga get away from the murder one rap
    And we out to get some so it's best if you ride around with ya strap

    [hook x3]
    Dope in the car, they let the dogs loose to hound me
    I'm headin' for the county, a hundred g's for my fuckin' bounty
    Cause i'm a killer with no heart
    Mass murderin' fools bout to amputate they body parts
    Like jeffrey dahmer, that ain't no drama
    So here's yo ghetto pass, a one-way ticket to the bahamas
    Ain't no love bitch, i thought chu' knew me
    I sit with this ho and these 32 kids, that nickel-plated uzi
    Master p and bo is headed for that big jack
    Movin' to get cho' face cracked, infrared to yo back
    Should i shoot, get him for his loot
    No wait might hit him for his whole motherfuckin' suit
    Shoot em' up bang bang, gotta let my nuts hang
    Lettin' off rounds in my candy painted mustang
    Hit a lick for some snow and did a drive-by
    Sliced it up and slanged it up on the setlike some muslim bean pies
    Hit the highway with bo back to the 916
    Left the 510 cause we gon' double up to 26
    Bumpin' 2pac, motherfuckin' "thug life"
    Reminicin' on our dead homies all fuckin' night
    It was a drought so we crawdad
    I mean up the price cause this shit was movin' too fuckin' fast
    Gats cocked for the jackers
    Rollin' with the shackers
    Got this ho in the back talkin' shit, i just might smack her
    Pull over sideways i had to let the top down
    Dank comin' out the car like steam comin' off the ground
    Now we on our way to burbank
    To the 213 and like b-legit say it's gon' take three tanks
    So pull this motherfuckin' hog to the philly station
    Start the grapevine, seen this fool slippin' on triple gold daytons

    [hook x3]

    [c-bo]
    Doors down, got an extra clip for the hk fifteen rounds
    Adrenaline pumpin' as i lay everybody face down
    Should i kill them, no fill the bag
    He had more cash stashed off in the drop jag
    Slammed his hand in the door, torture will make him speak
    Cocked my hammer, jammed my barrel through his fuckin' teeth
    Got him coughin' up, pissin' blood
    Cause a ballin' ass nigga didn't show no love
    Nigga, motherfuckers be gettin' they head twisted
    Ya best homeboy done turned into a rat, snitch, bitch
    Got cha' jacked slapped caught up in the rat pack
    While some niggas in all black, in some fake d.a. hats
    Jumpin' out of rental cras, up on ya front yard
    Runnin' through yo front door holdin' the four-four
    Yellin' jack time, crack minds
    And put this shit on record cause i can back mine

    [hook with various ad-libs to fade]



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