commin @ chu man widda tommy gun...nigga im psycho//
fuck you nigga dis ain no typo//
run up in yo buildin...fuck how u feelin maka nigga do tight ropes//
u talkin all dis false shyt i thought u was true B//
loud moufin Hood dis and dat as if u knew me//
now u got a gun ta ta chest screamin and beggin "DONT SHOOT ME!!"//
soon as i pull da triga back...u began ta sweat//
as ugly as Sam Cassell is how fucked up dis can get//
taka look @ cho pants and i can see you pissn wet//

u start ta git nervouse and hands start ta shake//
knowin ya face gon be on da next milk carton they make//
now u beggin and pleadin about cha mistakes//
ya heart's been goin fo too long its time ta apply da breaks//
i squeeze da steal in mah hand in yo chest where it land//
u laid da fuck out in somebody's section 8//

it's time ta skeet skeet skeet b4 da cops hit da scene//
i see ya guts hangiin out cuz da OX hit cha spleen//

i got back ta mah crib...walked in lookin fo a place ta stash da gun//
shyt i had ta sneak past mah son//
i dont need him ta see daddy covered in blood//
dont need him being like me becommin a thug//

ta relax mah mind i had mah bitch on her knees//
i ain want da cat...kus in between where she bleed//

__________________
Me$$i@h