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G's Perspective
Descrição
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Letra
This one's for Junior M.A.F.I.A
Right here we just gonna set it off
Niggas know the deal
Niggas know the deal
Bitches know the deal
Niggas know the deal
It's real on this end, uh
Real on this end, real on this end
Real on this end, real on this end
Real on this end, real on this end
Real on this end, real on this end
Real on this end, real on this end
Real on this end, real on this end
Real on this end, real on this end
Enter my mind, get smoked up, my sight is blind
Cock back the nine 'cause I might not like what I find
Murders I seen, kill a fiend
Through the Indo sheen, mean worse than the flying guillotine
Hennessy I sip 'til I'm ripped
I aim the gun and slip, exhale hollow tips
From my point and angle, this must be the Devil's triangle
Confused so I mangle, demons I had to strangle
Professional hitman, assorted guns, multi clips
Grab my gats, cock 'em back and let 'em bust shit
I said I run for real, niggas fuckin' with me, you better back up
With the fo'-fo's that's been loaded, so motherfuck the slack up
I shoot the raps, take craps, give me the snaps
Niggas wantin' to clap 'cause I'm leavin' them with open gaps
I write rhymes, the game mine to maintain mine
The rag around my head stands for the gang sign
So lick the bottle, lick the shot by the shotty
Fear nobody, adolescents catchin' fuckin' bodies
On all you niggas, gangbangers, snitches
I get you fucked up, I don't know which witch is which
It's Larson, he's a part of me, triflin' and stiflin'
MCs on they ass, two snakes in the fuckin' grass
You know what time it is, baby
No friends, no friends, JM, uh
What you want? The keys, GS3's, the papes
Bustin' in bitches, makin' they periods late
Cleanin' out crates, coke crumbs off the plates
Fuck is real protective, young G's perspective
What you want? The keys, GS3's, the papes
Bustin' in bitches, makin' they periods late
Cleanin' out crates, coke crumbs off the plates
Fuck is real protective, young G's perspective
Larson, the dirty trick-ass nigga
Lookin' good, shit, I'd rather grab my gat, cock it, pull trigger
Heat I keep when I creep, usin' the snake intellect
To catch wreck and count the green, a nigga drops
I wish it was the cops, shit is hot
Niggas got the motherfuckin' block locked
Wicked creator, life eliminator
Continue to send you murders on the menu
Which get in you, meet the boom or the stab wound
Blood harvest the tomb, catch a body every full moon
Niggas MC with temptation, death by asphyxiation
Snake relation like proper damnation
Since birth on this scorched earth
Badness with the lyricals, pocket full of miracles
I'm sick, and sick of bein' tired
Ain't a soul I fear, too tired to care
It's unwise to let my temperature rise
Even flies don't believe in me, believe your eyes
Should I cry 'cause I wet a nigga and he die?
Go cop my lye, roll up and get high, what?
What you want? The keys, GS3's, the papes
Bustin' in bitches, makin' they periods late
Cleanin' out crates, coke crumbs off the plates
Fuck is real protective, young G's perspective
What you want? The keys, GS3's, the papes
Bustin' in bitches, makin' they periods late
Cleanin' out crates, coke crumbs off the plates
Fuck is real protective, young G's perspective
I cause bloody bodies and blood clots, bury bustas in buck shots
Cock Glocks around the block, niggas done cleaned they clocks
Niggas can see me not, leather get hot
Murder more niggas than got, a longer rap sheet than Manson got
Because I love to get drastic, so who asked it?
Black plastic slaps in the back with all the caskets
Who can be more killer? Blood spiller, clips with hollow points
So when a nigga slips, he piss like he's got salmonella
Danger approaches, checkin' for who gets closest
Get closer to get my focus, smoke these rookies like roaches
Who can cause more terror than this? Microphone terrorist
Sprayin' niggas like matches, broken bitches in patches
And you know this, the bullets hit and crease
With more heat than a heater, 'specially when I got my millimeter
Burning up these niggas like VD, these niggas tried to see me
Now I make 'em vanish like Houdini
What you want? The keys, GS3's, the papes
Bustin' in bitches, makin' they periods late
Cleanin' out crates, coke crumbs off the plates
Fuck is real protective, young G's perspective
What you want? The keys, GS3's, the papes
Bustin' in bitches, makin' they periods late
Cleanin' out crates, coke crumbs off the plates
Fuck is real protective, young G's perspective
No doubt, no doubt
The Bay Area meets Bed-Stuy
Black Jack, Junior M.A.F.I.A
Frank White in this motherfucker
Keepin' it real for the '96 until, uh
Geah, no friends, JM, uh
No friends, JM
My nigga Black Jack, uh
No friends, JM
Uh, snakes
No friends, JM
No friends, JM, uh
Uh, no friends, JM, uh
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