Song info
"F. B. I." Videos
Lyrics
I'm wakin' up in the mornin', with problems on my mind
Mother-fuck the education, and drug ra-bilitation
I'm smokin' on that weed, and the green is gettin' tasty
Dead feds in my closet cause they tried to chase me
November the 29th, I bust open my mothers cock
Pussy hole was 'dicted she drinkin', now I'm addicted to crack rock
So mother-fuck you bitches and you snitches tryin' to do me in
Police in disguises and he tries to buy Peruvian
Knockin' at my fuckin' door, duckin 'and dodgin' on that floor
That oonkin'(?) got you 'noid, got me reachin' for my forty-four
Peepin' up out my window pane, I smell cops
A honkey's on the block, drop to my knee, and took a shot
I seen him drop, one time, this ain't the place for that
Since he's a fed, I took off his face for that
Honk shit that he tried to pull and you know he couldn't get away with this
Bitch I'm a time bomb, time, so don't you play with this
Fuck being indicted, so don't you try it, that's the fuckin' story
Cops go to the cemetery, no snitches in my laboratory
I'm fin to stir n' rock it up, so where's my silver spoon
I put my yea out on the block, and all you hear is boom
This is my set, so you can jet, or get that sweater wet
A fed is bloody, he's been wounded by a fucking tech
Rat-tat ta-ta tat-tat, I'm a take him up out his misery
For ridin' my nuts and tryin' to stick me with delivery
Loose lips, sink ships, oh this is do or die
This is a letter from Shoestring to the F.B.I.
Backstabbers gone, so I guess you dirty cops are clean
You took a father from their family, mother-fuck they dreams
Is what you said, so mother-fuck the bitch ass fed
I want you dead, I'm a pump your ass full of lead
Let's make a deal, this shit is real, ill
I pack my steel, you let him go, then we can let you live
You made that switch, and now it's time to kill you bitch
Give you an overdose of bullets, and put you in a ditch
Drug dealers and fed killers, lets get united
Boom O's on them hoes, green, fuck being indicted
Chorus x2
Mother-fuck the F.B.I., bitches I'm prepared to die
Harlem Green's back on my dick, cause I won't slang his drug supply
Jail ain't never scared me none, fuck the feds and vice cops too
Distribution of cocaine, is that all y'all can come with dude
Bitches badgers police fast, find yourself a better snitch
Cause that bitch you got smoke rocks
And so that mean her word ain't shit
If I get some prison time, give me mine cause I ain't fake
Since my clique don't snitch, when I get out all my connections straight
The Journal keeps my name in lights, entrapment to the third degree
'Fore my trial can come, the newspapers wanna sentence me
Bitch bootlegs prepared to go, you'll never get this chance again
Gotta baby by my auntie, and want your nephew in the pen
Bitch we ain't no kin, fuck that smilin' I ain't in that mood
Bring in the indictment papers, eatin' all my grandmother's food
Bitch you know that's rude, attitude is to the third degree
Send me to penitentiary, come out that bitch a straight up G
Never been a busta, always been a hustla sellin' yea
Came up bustin' caps, so we could deal this dime right where I stay
Out to make my pay, and sellin' yea's the only way I know
Fiends around the block, soon as I open up my rock house door
Gotta make some more, I'm droppin' eighthies on that digital scale
More popular than Taco Bell, taco shells we're making sells
Mother-fuck a bitch, I want a key, give me that uncut raw
Shit'll numb your jaw, the best cocaine these crackheads ever saw
Your momma eyes are big again, every time she smokes she plots
Since I wouldn't give her a rock, she sending the federal government in my spot
Conspiracy and distribution, drop some grip so I can fight it
Free again to sell dope, bitch, fuck being indicted
Chorus x2
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