Luyện nghe bài hát It's On, On Sight

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

They want problems; soon them want me waxed, on my ass
comin from the pen, they say I owe 'em cash
Dwellin off the and they need it fast
But what they fai'lize is I'll be to blast
Die hard cold blooded all about my work
up like a female in a mini-skirt
Specialize in doin dirt - shootin in the shirt
Put the pistol in his mouth and it hurt, ooh
Cutlass, guzzlin down a 40-ounce of Swiss malt liquor brewsky
talkin to a cutie standin the movie theater
on top of the hood of my Cutlass
Smokin on a non-filter pink pack colored edition
Clove-family affiliated cancer stick lookin +GANESH+
What the fuck? W here's the peace
Full of my Wheaties, yes indeedy, don't shoot no beebees
Programmed to amputate anything that off in my way
Then I put them same size left bullets up in my A.K.
I wait '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, them cheated" - 3X (in background)
We had a meetin', shit to been squashed (3x)

Shit was to been squashed

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

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

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

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