Shootouts - Intellectual

[Produced by Trackmasters]

[Verse 1]

Yo, release what's in me. Besides the Henny, it's eyes that's seen plenty

Fiends get skinny as if Queens was a Craig Jenny

Instead of diet plans, it's crack, two hundred grams

I pump a G-pack, peepin' for where the D's at

It's slow. Lookin' for Rambo; the cop who got grazed

Back in the days chasin' niggas through my project maze

That cop, he got a death wish. He run behind niggas until you breathless

Everyday, he makin' ten arrests, shit!

My nigga, check this. I know the bitch he rest with

I even blessed it. Forty-dash-ten; inspect it

(Already checked it, dunn. Near his ankle; you could see his gun)

Peep. He parked his Jeep in the back of the slum

To check Tanisha. Fat ass, real fly with the blonde caesar

Vittadini summer gear, she push the two-seater

I heard she brag about the way he eat her

An Irish man. Short, slim with a tan. They say he laced her cheeba

She do be lookin' weaker now, her teeth are foul

Speakin' loud, peep her style. In and out of every reefer cloud

Fat ass dissolvin', like cotton candy in a mouth that's starvin'

Rock the same gear daily, like a soldier in my squadron

I heard she let Jake investigate from her window

'Cause she's a nympho. Suckin' dick and coughin' up info

So now, it's set up. Her and the beast to get wet up

I know he's vest up. We blazin' from the neck up

(Yo, let me knock first) Soon as he open, let your Glock burst

They had the chains on. Son hit the lock first

We busted in, the cop jerked. Jungle popped one in his shirt

I grabbed the bitch by her tits, she tried to say she Earth

We saw the cameras, tape recorders and the monitors. They eyein' us

(Nas, yo, he survived one from the .45)

Pull his shades down, they seen his last days now

There's no way now, we can be treated just like a slave now

Two in the dome, he's laid down. Ayo, the bitch is saved now

She's livin' in a snitch grave now

[Chorus]

Shootouts is similar to Wild West

Broad daylight, face-to-face without a vest

You know the episodes

Thugs camouflage in spectacles

Please, God, just save the life that the Devil sold

See, it was written, but was never told

Peep the jewels, black man. It's even better than gold

Niggas roll with iron

Police roll in hot pursuit, tryna stop the loot

Fuck Jake. Cock and shoot

[Verse 2]

Still on the streets with my peeps so deep

We threw a block party for my man goin' up creek

To do his two-to-four. Niggas show love from all around the board

Peace, Lord. Sony Handy-Cam on record

Pop a bottle, 'cause when you come home, we still got it sewn

We can watch the tape play back and just zone

Film all the bitches, on the benches with ill extensions

We block the streets off, only crew cars can enter

Music was loud and it was crowded

Barbecued wings, we fed the fiends. (Gamble in the back!) Killa shouted

And Frank tried to stop the bank, lost about what a Rollie cost

Guzzled his drink, and staggered off

He's a Big Will, used to slang krill. Now, he own The Hill

Couldn't take losin' his cash, and I could feel

Something in the air, yeah. Frank returned with Pierre

A gunslinger, who niggas hadn't seen in a year

I usually be holdin'. 'Specially this type of weekend

And everyone except for me had started reachin'

They had gats in each other's faces

With kids and grandmothers around, Frank's only concern was his papers

My man Killa let off. Half of them fake niggas jet off

Police blitz quick, waitin' for that to set off

Runnin' the static. It got me mad 'cause they a bunch of faggots

Startin' shit in my hood, I can't have it

Yo, High. Get the 40-Cali stainless

Jake is still out. Let's make it real and still make them niggas famous

Dip behind trees in fatigues and squeeze, dodge and weave

Hearin' Jake retaliatin', and Wiz was up the alley waitin', we breeze

Jump in the ride, heard Pierre died

Internal bleedin' inside, and ain't been back since '95