Im constantly thinkin on my man's death, shot with no vest
My life was a sex fest, until Jingles, drug dealer, streets best
Shot him in his back, left him on the ground, blood pourin
A switch to reality, me and my niggaz chillin 7 in da mornin
Strategizin on the perfect crime, get paid, revenge mine
That's how it goes in my hood, life fo' a life, no nines
But a game of the mind, somethin even Jingles couldn't define
After its ova, we reminise on my nigga and hold up the sign
That gangsta sign, this flow spills as thoughts to the paper
How we goin bake this faker, kill, bounce before town wake up
A new day, gats still spray, but we beyond that way
We keep it Sherlock style, foul, so that pussy could pay
Fo' his thoughtless act, now relaxin, i imagin satan packin
Pussy wit notes stackin, but Hell awaits for his act and
Now slackin on his defense, we creep in, he weakens
His hoe at work, playin him, seekin dick and late sleep in
Security system down, alarm deactivated, we made it
Later that night, his wifey home, her pussy, another nigga ate it
I state it, it was crazy, when Jingles found rubber in da purse
He stormed out the crib, plan changed wit a rebirth
Hoe thirst fo' sex, ate fo' a sec, called a nigga, then left
Soon came back wit this nigga, sexin up while we ref
My nigga Rone called me, whispered somethin in my ear
I couldn't hear what he said, the sex had my head unclear
Chick went to use the bathroom, locked the door, then screamed
The nigga banged on the door like it was a 4th sequel of Scream
He managed, hoe on the ground, with her fake tits hangin out
He stared wit no sound, turned arouond, then fell down
Both dead on the ground, stabbed in da back, blood in da mouth
Alternate plan was a sucess, we got the cash and was out
We secured the money like we was managin the Bank of Sovereign
I sighed, f**k Bonnie & Clyde, we Batman & Robin
Jingles came to the crib, called his wife, then fin to bounce
Turned around, 5-0 surroundin, escaped was nowhere to be found
Pussy got trialed, bribed the jury, bailed out, fake sell out
Was found shot later that same day, announced in da TV Lounge
Of a club, me and Rone steady chillin, when word was said
That his killer was kin to his wife's secret nigga who both lyin dead
Everything turns around, reap what you sow, not by the nine
A plan of a mastermind who could switch a screw up into a Perfect Crime


well, not my best, but rate it, don't hate it