Artist: Mack 10 Lyrics
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Look here my *****, it's for your own **********ing good
You want to keep your bling, stay out my neck of the woods
If you a stranger caught anywhere in my hood
How you get left, the only thing people can say is "Ughh"
I been know for reignin' choppers, bluka-bluka
Been stankin' baller blockers and ducking coppers
Got a holla, from my ***** Mack 10-sion
An told me to meet him at LAX and its `bout some business
I flauge in, he tellin' me some busta tripping
Please let your lil' dog pay this cat a visit
**** wit the O.G. and B.G. get busy
Make sure his days livin', cut to a minimum
I speak this **** cause I mean it my *****
I creep and where I catch ya, is where I leave ya my *****
A lot of *****s don't walk it, and talk about it
But this ***** B.G. goin' be dog about it
[Chorus: B.G.: x2]
Now when we come, we come, and dog we ain't playin'
It's bluka, bluka boo-yuka, boo-yuka, fla, fluka, flame
We a dog *****, we walks that walk and talk that talk *****
***** I'm 'bout Sherm smokin' and trigga hokin'
And leave my enemies dead and their ****in' blood soakin'
Don't doubt it, it's C.M.R so I shout it
Like navigation, I map it out, route it then be a dog about
I lay low, jack you for every dollar and paceo
That's all Hoo-Bang did, homies above, everything else I love
Say B.G. you need a hundred stack from Mack
You'll need 20 jugs of water plus a whole gang of crack
But firsts things first, find him, hit 'em with the tool
Then make his blood ooze until there's no more to lose
Murder, murder's a must, take the stairway to heaven
And if you **** wit Mack, then it's a 187
So if you do me, then I'll do you
But when I do you, I want your whole ****in' crew
So fill the church up and get the units you recite of
I'm a straight dog about it plus a West side rider
I hit the street, you know I be thugged-the-****-out
When I beef, slugs get bust at your house
All week, its drama, ya block like ghost town
You want peace, its too late the water started to boil now
I tried to tell ya when you was buckin', "Settle down"
I tried to tell ya that, "Lil' B.G. is ghettoed down"
I tried to tell ya that, "*****s raw from Uptown"
And release nothin' but a hundred plus rounds
Hold up B.G. blood, check it, I gotta know homie
And this punk we thought was a real ***** is a **********in' phony
Big Stunter Corlone gave the word and now it`s on
Said he wanted a close casket, chigga-chop` em in his dome
Then act like Rambo, turn into Mack Soprano
Fill him full of ammo, the blood gushin' from his flannel
Fluka-flames wit nothing but red-dot aims
Chicken heart plucking out a Chevy, ain't a damn thing changed
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