you don't hear me doe

, call me psychotive but i'm bad, nigga yo!, and i'ma do ya bad, black, and when i come, i'm bustin up niggas to hear me, black, ya should of never let a nigga see, if there was niggas and bitches and bitches and niggas that hated me, huh, i waited for my date to come-of-age, and now i'm of-age i can't escape the fuckin front page, so i guess that nigga d is up to hit again, i kicks the funky shit and coke, and stupid like i'm gilligan, i'm p, supposed to hit a lick for a jack, the only thing i gained is the pain of niggas comin back, nigga lookin for they shit, aggravated and pissed, niggas they can't fuck with my clique, i'm here to break em off for chunk, a d-e-a-t-h-l-y, a motherfuckin punk, and i be rollin with the brass, don't answer with the ziggers in your hood, he break your neck to roll a, pass, nigga, don't even stop to say 'whattup?' cos i bust for the fuck, and pay some quick to light a motherfucker up, next time you stop me on your block, i hope you leave the place, or be the next to meet the lord face-to-face, nigga, i ain't the one to take no bullshit, cos see a nigga like the d is game to empty out the full clip, so when i come for ya, act like ya know, sittin motherfuckin smooth to the curb but you don't hear do', i'ma bring ya to ya asshole, do it like the g-to-o, bustin on that ass but still i see that you don't hear me do', bring ya to ya asshole, do it like the g-to-o, bustin on that ass but still i see that you don't hear me do', it's time to fuck em up, here it comes, blast, nigga!, thump to your chest and they comin out your ass, nigga, i grew apart, livin my life as a criminal, niggas g to kill but still i see that you don't hear me do', so i'ma serve it to ya fat, hit the deck, mate, hit the deck mate, call me flipper when i checkmate, d-um divertin nine, tre-9, full glock, glock, my glock makin sounds and it don't stop, so nigga pass the swisha quick, and i'ma blaze til the motherfucker burn me off my fingertips, cos, see a nigga gotta saty high, i try to smoke til i can't smoke and then i won't smoke, but still i got my fingers on my shit, and click, click, click, ya die, die, die, ya dead, bitch!, you tried to test the wrong nigga, be a tested, straight from st.paul but clockin g's down in texas, some think i'm talk cos i play it cool, but i ain't the average motherfucker, i do the shit that niggas won't do, huh, like pistol whip a woodie for his bank, then after that i gate and grab his bitch and do the same thang, and i will pain up the asshole, collectin grips on my drips as i stroll but you don't hear me do', ain't no mistakin what i'm bringin, you motherfuckers still ain't had, enough, so i'ma continue to break you off for proper ass chunk, may it be 9, may it be a gauge, may it be a shank, any way you come i'm in your motherfuckin shit, mate!, huh, a nigga bustin caps, smokin fires, quick to bring it to your ass and keep on goin til your ass die, and it ain't no runnin down dem backstreets, cos i got slugs to catch em with carl lewis on the track meet, huh, and still you wanna test a nigga so, audi 5, nigga, hate to see ya go but you don't hear me do', yeah, check it!