Tommy Wright III, Shawty Pimp, TipToe — Meet Yo Maker

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Текст Tommy Wright III, Shawty Pimp, TipToe — Meet Yo Maker

[Verse 1: Tommy Wright III]
Me and my partner TipToe ’bout to do a homicide
Crankin’ up the ride, finna go out on the east side
First I roll a blunt, so rappers like us can get high off the spliff
So when we gets to cap, we won’t have no pity when we kill
Rolled up on the set, real slow, with the lights off
Then I see my enemies, wanna cap ’em with the sawed off
Bustas standin’ on the corner, sippin’ on some Alizé
That’s when I got the tec, threw in the clip and then commence to spray
Jump back in the Chevy, burned rubber, as I left the scene
Still blazed from last night, so a killing to Tommy Wright just ain’t no thang
Ballin’ down Bellevue, headed to a C.T.O
Buy me a getaway, packed my bags and lay low
Go and pop the trunk and put the pump in the plastic bag
Buried in the yard of the house that my father had
Now these suckers fearin’ me with rumors lurkin’ on the streets
That I shot another, and left his body like a refugee
Yellow tape, chalked bodies, blood on the concrete
Won’t go to jail now or later, step to me, you’ll meet yo maker

[Verse 2: Tommy Wright III]
We was loungin’ in the steamer at a light, laid back
Couple of macks tried to jack, so we had to peel some caps
I pop one in the leg, sliced the other with a knife
I don’t care about spirits hauntin’ me, I still be smokin’ blunts, G
The other robber grabbed TipToe, tossed him out the car
They got us stuck between trucks, they done went too damn far
He grabbed TipToe by the head, put the pistol to his face
I act like I ain’t give a damn, stood still in one place
Then I pointed the barrel, he pointed his and told me «Drop the gun!»
That’s when he messed up, TipToe rumbled his ass, and started to run
Now yo ass free, I’m gon’ cap this fool now, not later
Run over his ass in the steamer, turn, trick
Meet yo maker (meet yo maker..)

(Watch your back, or you might get smoked!)

(Watch your back, or you might get smoked!)

[Verse 3: Shawty Pimp]
Mind of a Black Haven killa
I’m pimpin’ & peelin’ these women & (?) cuz I’m dealin’
I’m makin’ my money fast, shakin’ these suckaz like when I blast
I’m hard to the pimpin’ game, ain’t no thang, I’m a killa, mayne
I’m constantly killin’ and servin’ the time for punishment
5-0 think they runnin’ thangs, they don’t know I’m aboutta klick
P.I.M.-killa-P. stupid punk, I’m describin’ me
Point-blank with the red beam, it’s bound be a bloody scene
I kill like a heavy-habbit, the bud, I gotta have it
I’m drankin’ & thankin’ one day I might ‘come a dead victim
(?), and clockin’ my Glock on ’em
I’m constantly killin’ these suckaz, droppin’ these bustaz
Makin’ them scream in pain
Stickin’, and jackin’, and crackin’, and packin’ a skull
Yeah, I’m goin’ insane
To be a pimp legacy, killa instinct inside-a me
I learnt from my family, killin’ can be done easily
Don’t let me like catch ya slippin’, a quick way to start the killin’
Shot in the head, left for dead
It’s just one more
Trick that got shot up quick, so go plan a funeral
I creep in ya house, hit ya motha, and then I lynch her
Yeah, playa
I got the mind of a killa
Meet yo maker…
Meet yo maker…

[Verse 4: TipToe]
Tippy-toe! Tippy-toe! On you with the gauge, so
Put to the ground, take ya down, now ya feelin’ assed out
Tough luck, crab-ass nigga goin’ against a real pimp
Grab my shoe with a grip, bust you in yo bottom-lip
Jump in the air, come back down, drop-kick to yo skull
Put yo ass in severe pain, killa like me ain’t got no love
Put you in a bodybag, have yo fuckin’ body dragged
Down to the riverside, nigga like me ain’t bar no height
Quick to jump and tip you up, think fast when I blast
Run to the back of the room, and assume that I was sure to take yo cash
Nevertheless, I kill a trick, when I click, insane quick
Glock, took yo knot, get yo knees dirty for the shot
Cho’ cuz ya know (?) in the back o’ yo throat
Callin’ up my clout, when I’m out, gotta count my cheeze
Can’ts get ’em dirty, yeah I’m talkin’ about (?)
Lead for you bustas from my 38-caliber
Hit-list, think quist, scratch ’em off my calendar
Cuz, take a buzz from a bullet to yo temple
You think you can take out a real playa? Try yo luck, nigga