I'm at your door, your eyes are like why are you Judging by my I got something to do here Give up the money or the cries two tears of your crib sounding like Chinese New Year Brat, brat, brat, brat, brat, brat, ka-ka-kat, kat Brat, brat, brat, brat, brat, brat, ka-ka-kat, kat
Mask on face, in hand I was in and out of homes like the man Never listen to my parents an orphan man Strong on the trigger like it's dwarf's hands
Confiscate goodies Repo Man Sam nigga kick that can, fall victim to the klick klack klan My vixen eat ya face, like ya she Ms. Pac wish her command, uh ADT's stop me, simple like ABC's Snip cut game as easy as 1 2 3, breaking an entry so elementary
Get what the hustlers get for trying to do what the do Give up the cash 'fore I turn you monster blue And your man and for trying to be hustlers too Earnie and Bert, I bet them bullet holes and hurt
I'm at your door, your are like why are you here Judging by my I got something to do here Give up the or the angel cries two tears Front of your crib sounding like Chinese New Brat, brat, brat, brat, brat, brat, ka-ka-kat, kat Brat, brat, brat, brat, brat, brat, ka-ka-kat, kat
Let's play cops and robbers and Heckler and Koch turn cops to As well as niggaz wit to rob us Try me, I'll turn motherfucker into shuttas
Wit 911's revin Gunfire leave brethren like 9/11 And get the sounds of dispensing That clack up make 'em back up it's invisible fencing
When I picture and pieces of bone chip and flesh It tears me to Cooperate, escaping useless, trust me I'm your I will talk you through
Trick or treat wit hoods want the goods I feel like Robin when I share it wit my hood forget, he who plays hero gets hit Don't let the 9 mill your wits smarty pants
I'm at your door, your eyes are why are you here by my steel I got something to do here Give up the money or the angel two tears Front of your crib sounding like New Year Brat, brat, brat, brat, brat, brat, ka-ka-kat, kat Brat, brat, brat, brat, brat, brat, ka-ka-kat, kat
Sympathy? I none, when you hear that humming, common sense To take a duck and get the fuck outta way dying would absolutely make my day Why he had to go look who, but he wasn't so he got
is what I did to him, now you will see to him Hurried out his crib, that took everything Let the boy
If I didn't get you right you better your pistol tight When we meet in the afterlife, chain I'm the black one that bleed Rosco P, young G, I don't speak I squeeze 97 P will make you to your knees
Before you know it, you'll be to a better place your soul feeling free I'm young, black and I don't give a fuck Big gun on my waist, in the trunk Sitting high in a truck, call me luck, me
I'm at door, your eyes are like why are you here Judging by my steel I got something to do Give up the money or the cries two tears of your crib sounding like Chinese New Year
Brat, brat, brat, brat, brat, brat, ka-ka-kat, kat Brat, brat, brat, brat, brat, brat, ka-ka-kat, kat Brat, brat, brat, brat, brat, brat, ka-ka-kat, kat Brat, brat, brat, brat, brat, brat, ka-ka-kat, kat