Luyện nghe bài hát It's On, On Sight

(*Screeching tires, gunshots, broken glass, and screaming*)
(3x)

They problems; soon them want me waxed, contracts on my ass
It's comin the pen, they say I owe 'em cash
off the past and they need it fast
But what they is I'll be quick to blast
Die hard cold blooded killer all my work
up like a female in a mini-skirt
Specialize in doin - shootin niggaz in the shirt
Put the in his mouth and make it hurt, ooh
Cutlass, guzzlin down a 40-ounce bottle of Swiss malt liquor
talkin to a standin outside the movie theater
on top of the hood of my Cutlass
Smokin on a non-filter pink colored edition cigarette
affiliated cancer stick lookin +GANESH+ beadie
What the fuck? W the peace treaty?
Full of my Wheaties, yes indeedy, M-16's shoot no beebees
Programmed to amputate that gets off in my way
Then I put them same size left over up in my A.K.
I can't 'til we bump heads

It on, on sight day and night no matter I'm dumpin'
I'm to see you niggas 'bout somethin' (2x)

"I'm heated, niggas cheated" - 3X (in background)
We had a meetin', shit 'posed to squashed (3x)

Shit was to been squashed

I've got a hunch; meet me at the Olive Garden spot let's do
Fool and dem tried to the buck and set us up for lumps
Sons of bitches think we some chumps
to break out the pipe bombs and the pumps

Nigga fuck and pull lick, we kick in the door with full clips
Out of Magnums packin we blast 'em we all out for the chips
FOol, 40-Water never slip, saw the niggaz quick and then
Before we spark the pipe bombs, and blow niggaz shit to
side-ways up off they block, poppin gears in a big
All out non stop riders until our casket
We smashin, on any, while I remember many
and blastin double two-three's, fuck the enemies

One of my big dudes up out HPA shot me a kite
He up in Pelican Bay striker
25 with a L cause he won't tell on one of his
high-ranked in position who wears a diaper
With the shit stacked on the of his waist
blood all on the windshield wiper
Somebody tried to his face - caught him up in his Viper
Loose as a ass out tried to down him like a sniper
hyperventilated havin' seizures
No feelings in his legs, arms, or his

We stand tall, like Manute Bol with balls than RuPaul
Strapped 4-4's down to execute all y'all
want to see us niggas on a mission
150 drum 45 slugs bitten
No remorse hit by the hardcore fo'
Leave him stuck in his front
70 through his front window
Ain't no with G's
Fill 'em up to they from they knees
Leave 'em dyin' in the street as we on they goldeeze