[Intro: Crunchy Black & DJ Paul]

Damn man a nigga pocket fucked up in this motherfucker

Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! That's fucked up

A nigga need to find out how we go get some

Dead presidents or something man

You know what I'm sayin' a nigga

Got to get straight around this mother fucker

Niggas got that muthafuckin' shit, don't wanna share it

Niggas we know you tight, muthafucker you need to share that shit

Before a nigga break you off something

(Prophet mutha fuckin Entertainment)

You know what I'm saying, you know what I mean, a nigga go break you off

You need to share that shit, motherfuckers fucked up round here

We go take care of that, something go have to get straight

Or something go have to go motherfucking sour nigga!

You know what I mean

A mother fucker go have to handle ya mother fucking ass

Nigga share that shit, A niggs know you on, A nigga know you tight

You better take care of ya boys dog

You know what I mean, A nigga go handle ya muthafucking ass

With the motherfucking seriousness! BITCH!

[Verse 1: Crunchy Black]

It's Crunchy Black the demon child, another mystery made

Another stang, Boo set it up, another nigga in his grave

I'm constantly scopin' out you niggas with that rival shit

You think I'm straight, bitch? I ain't straight, I'm out to get your shit!

My Smith & Wesson teaches lessons for you hard head hoes

To drop it off, you won't feel pain unless you don't do as told

But if you got ya fuckin' pistols and ya think you can beat

The Three 6 Mafia, nigga, try ya luck and we'll see

[Verse 2: Scan Man]

It's a worldwide panic, so watch the Scan Man get his automatic

Then get crazy like a criminal cause these niggas don't know nuthin' 'bout me

Watch ya self when you stackin' wealth, keep that shit deep to ya self

'Cause these killas from the Prophet Posse gon' lead you niggas straight to yo' death

'Cause we crazed with the rage

Having a urge that can't be replaced

I'm talkin' 'bout leaves and them trees

Then I walk with all yo' cheese

Now prepare for the world to turn over

'Cause them Prophet Posse niggas just have tooken over

[Hook: Project Pat]

Young Gs looking out for a meal ticket

Catch you slippin' in ya shit and we will take it

To a level that you hoes cannot handle, bitch

Six shots from the Glock, left 'em dead

Young Gs looking out for a meal ticket

Catch you slippin' in ya shit and we will take it

To a level that you hoes cannot handle, bitch

Six shots from the Glock, left 'em dead

[Verse 3: Crunchy Black & Project Pat]

Man, I'm gettin' tired of all you playa hatin' bitches

Playa hatin' on this game, you see a nigga out to get 'cha

You see I heard through ya hoes you was flodgin' 'bout ya riches

So I had to hit the Klan and tell 'em we had to come and get 'cha

So I told them I'll hit them back, so I can go get some facts

Scopin' out that nigga shack, making sure that shit is fat

Then I hit Lil Scan and Pat, told 'em that that shit was fat

Then my nigga Project said "When we go get this bitch?"

[Verse 4: Scan Man]

Go to war

Crunchy and Scan drop them bodies off to the shore

There's no more enemy freaks

Trying to get buck with this click

I'm insane in the brain, got me throwing bodies off the train

Acid rain from the sky, wash the remains down the drain

In your yard, after dark

It's them niggas who like to rob

In ya face with no trace

You go vanish from this place

Loved one's cry 'cause you die

Scan Man's there to wipe they eyes

Lullabyes [?] tomb

So ya click is now consumed

[Hook: Project Pat]

Young Gs looking out for a meal ticket

Catch you slippin' in ya shit and we will take it

To a level that you hoes cannot handle, bitch

Six shots from the Glock, left 'em dead

Young Gs looking out for a meal ticket

Catch you slippin' in ya shit and we will take it

To a level that you hoes cannot handle, bitch

Six shots from the Glock, left 'em dead

Young Gs looking out for a meal ticket

Catch you slippin' in ya shit and we will take it

To a level that you hoes cannot handle, bitch

Six shots from the Glock, left 'em dead

Young Gs looking out for a meal ticket

Catch you slippin' in ya shit and we will take it

To a level that you hoes cannot handle, bitch

Six shots from the Glock, left 'em dead