(Theyre all gonna laugh at you)
(Theyre all gonna laugh at you)
(Hahahahahaha)
(Theyre all gonna laugh at you)
Enter the mind of a sick n****.
With b***** uzi clips,
decapitated heads in baskets,
closed caskets. Murda on wax.
n****, that's what its all about,
that's what you bought the m****f***in tape for.
Murda on wax.
Redrum. On wax.
n****, I said, redrum, on wax.
Gotta get my prozac fore I go back
and murda these m****f****s
jumpin up out yo bushes in front a yo house with a tech nine
leavin in yo spine a flurry a bullets
its that killa S-P-I-see-E
a lot a these jealous m****f****s they want to murda me
but they can't f*** with that giggedy-giggedy-gangsta
the n**** that's leavin they m****f***in body parts in dumpstas
Budda-bye-bye-bye feel them blood clot rastas
the n***** who be out there slippin catch some buckshots to them head
pullin up four deep in an old school caddy
fully auto-maddy
empty the clip, n***** like paddy
in the alley, n***** domes they cap
pistol whippin m****f****s, got some blood on my strap
(Chorus)
What goes on in the mind of a sick n****?
Them b***** bodies, face down in the dirty river
What goes on in the mind of a sick n****?
Redrum, professinal gravedigga
What goes on in the mind of a sick n****?
Them b***** bodies, face down in them dirty river
What goes on in the mind of a sick n****?
187, professinal gravedigga
I'm bailin up out the cut and n***** they don't know what the f*** happened
I'm laughin and blastin, rippin a**** in half an
street sweepin these n***** up under the rug
plug they a**, makin they hooptie blow up when they crash
zonin out that hash
face down, back open, hopin they ain't no snitches scopin
witnesses witness they own smokin
see it ain't no joke and nothing funny
bustin caps in yo a** like Yosemite Sam and Bugs Bunny
they all see my comin and then they fled
I'm shootin these n***** off in the backa they head
blowin off they legs
talkin s*** while they dyin
f***** off they high an
hollow points keepin these n***** cold bodies fryin
I ain't no stranger to this killin s***
You shoulda thought before you f***** with this n**** you was dealin with
You see I mobs through the ghetto smokin hash blunts
stalkin game in the streets I grew up in
and when the s*** get funky I just get on up
and blow your head off with a m****f***in mac 10, b****
Chorus
you'll be outta this m****f**** like Ron Goldman, chopped the f*** up
ain't no n**** livin alive that survived
and had me caught up in some bullshit
now who you tryin to f*** up in the hustle
this 20 gaugell ripple your a** up like a can a Ruffles
I'm tryin to bubble like Johnson and Johnson
with one in the chamber up an I load this strap with a 45 Thompson
and we gon see if all that s*** is true
comin up out the bay, guaranteed to be 187 proof
you see my bustin with one hand up on my nutsac
departin domes yellin out who's the m****f***in mac
its that red infa, n**** with a hot temper
I got your funeral date set up for next September
you gon be deader than livin presidents
'cause in a couple a secs your soul gon be checkin up outta its residence
bodies stiff like Christmas ornaments
because the n***** that a f*** with me bein mo funk than Parliment
Chorus
You see I mobs through the ghetto smokin hash blunts
stalkin game in the streets I grew up in
and when the s*** get funky I just get on up
and blow your head off with a m****f***in mac 10, b****
Chorus
(n****, what you thinkin bout?)
(Theyre all gonna laugh at you)
(Hahahahahaha)
(Theyre all gonna laugh at you)
Enter the mind of a sick n****.
With b***** uzi clips,
decapitated heads in baskets,
closed caskets. Murda on wax.
n****, that's what its all about,
that's what you bought the m****f***in tape for.
Murda on wax.
Redrum. On wax.
n****, I said, redrum, on wax.
Gotta get my prozac fore I go back
and murda these m****f****s
jumpin up out yo bushes in front a yo house with a tech nine
leavin in yo spine a flurry a bullets
its that killa S-P-I-see-E
a lot a these jealous m****f****s they want to murda me
but they can't f*** with that giggedy-giggedy-gangsta
the n**** that's leavin they m****f***in body parts in dumpstas
Budda-bye-bye-bye feel them blood clot rastas
the n***** who be out there slippin catch some buckshots to them head
pullin up four deep in an old school caddy
fully auto-maddy
empty the clip, n***** like paddy
in the alley, n***** domes they cap
pistol whippin m****f****s, got some blood on my strap
(Chorus)
What goes on in the mind of a sick n****?
Them b***** bodies, face down in the dirty river
What goes on in the mind of a sick n****?
Redrum, professinal gravedigga
What goes on in the mind of a sick n****?
Them b***** bodies, face down in them dirty river
What goes on in the mind of a sick n****?
187, professinal gravedigga
I'm bailin up out the cut and n***** they don't know what the f*** happened
I'm laughin and blastin, rippin a**** in half an
street sweepin these n***** up under the rug
plug they a**, makin they hooptie blow up when they crash
zonin out that hash
face down, back open, hopin they ain't no snitches scopin
witnesses witness they own smokin
see it ain't no joke and nothing funny
bustin caps in yo a** like Yosemite Sam and Bugs Bunny
they all see my comin and then they fled
I'm shootin these n***** off in the backa they head
blowin off they legs
talkin s*** while they dyin
f***** off they high an
hollow points keepin these n***** cold bodies fryin
I ain't no stranger to this killin s***
You shoulda thought before you f***** with this n**** you was dealin with
You see I mobs through the ghetto smokin hash blunts
stalkin game in the streets I grew up in
and when the s*** get funky I just get on up
and blow your head off with a m****f***in mac 10, b****
Chorus
you'll be outta this m****f**** like Ron Goldman, chopped the f*** up
ain't no n**** livin alive that survived
and had me caught up in some bullshit
now who you tryin to f*** up in the hustle
this 20 gaugell ripple your a** up like a can a Ruffles
I'm tryin to bubble like Johnson and Johnson
with one in the chamber up an I load this strap with a 45 Thompson
and we gon see if all that s*** is true
comin up out the bay, guaranteed to be 187 proof
you see my bustin with one hand up on my nutsac
departin domes yellin out who's the m****f***in mac
its that red infa, n**** with a hot temper
I got your funeral date set up for next September
you gon be deader than livin presidents
'cause in a couple a secs your soul gon be checkin up outta its residence
bodies stiff like Christmas ornaments
because the n***** that a f*** with me bein mo funk than Parliment
Chorus
You see I mobs through the ghetto smokin hash blunts
stalkin game in the streets I grew up in
and when the s*** get funky I just get on up
and blow your head off with a m****f***in mac 10, b****
Chorus
(n****, what you thinkin bout?)