La The Darkman, 12 O’Clock, Ghostface Killah - Wu-Blood Kin lyrics
[La The Darkman, 12 O’Clock, Ghostface Killah - Wu-Blood Kin lyrics]
Young Gods when you killed them
Guns you kill sons
Then get sent to the pen for murder one
I rather be rich, lay back and fuck a chick
Can't now son I'm being hit by a bullet
The garden of redemption
Half of my clan is fenced in
For being lynch men
Never listen like Sonny Liston
On Riker's pissing 25 was no surprise
He shot 3 niggas left one paralyzed
With bloody palms
Them niggas tried to rape his moms
Son shooting at their chest shells
Went through his charm
On Saint Nick call that Branson weed spot kid
2 niggas dead, history, like a pyramid
He ran with cleaves to an
Island off in Florida Keys
Bent out, dunn had a three-story penthouse
450 feet off South Beach
Young fakes made the news on
The New York streets
Extraordinary he sent his man to
See the nigga buried
Check the sum though, DT Joe Colombo
Got a tip Brent was out in Florida on the low
Pushing a Benz-O, six-O-O and mo'
He selling smoke out the store
Po kicked in the door
Brent was in the back gambling
With 2 pounds of green on the table
My dunn's escape route was unstable
Of course, he fucked up sniffing white horse
The German's hit his laboratory
With the task force
Brent was too high reached up
Cocked the four-five
First DT hit the back caught
A shell through his eye
He screamed the rest of his police team
Shot Brent to death like a '88 fiend
Young Gods when you killed them
Guns you kill sons
Then get sent to the pen for murder one
I rather be rich, lay back and fuck a chick
Can't now son I'm being hit by a bullet
Nigga shut the fuck up and drown
The keys in the pool
Keep your cool feds knocking on the door soon
See, they heard about that cat you
Murdered in the pool room
You should've swarmed on 'em, stayed in late
Luring doom on 'em
Jet skied on 'em then flew
Around corner on 'em
4 o'clock in the morning I threw
The ski mask on 'em
My little man's on the corner when
I pulled it on 'em 357 snub nosing on 'em
Some bitches that was bugging for
Him you know 'em
The bitches probably still be holding
Went to 25 years on 'em they growing
Now back to the shit with the twelve
On it to be on it
12 O'Clock is on it Darkman on it
And niggas don't want it
Young Gods when you killed them
Guns you kill sons
Then get sent to the pen for murder one
I rather be rich, lay back and fuck a chick
Can't now son I'm being hit by a bullet
Guns you kill sons
Then get sent to the pen for murder one
I rather be rich, lay back and fuck a chick
Can't now son I'm being hit by a bullet
The garden of redemption
Half of my clan is fenced in
For being lynch men
Never listen like Sonny Liston
On Riker's pissing 25 was no surprise
He shot 3 niggas left one paralyzed
With bloody palms
Them niggas tried to rape his moms
Son shooting at their chest shells
Went through his charm
On Saint Nick call that Branson weed spot kid
2 niggas dead, history, like a pyramid
He ran with cleaves to an
Island off in Florida Keys
Bent out, dunn had a three-story penthouse
450 feet off South Beach
Young fakes made the news on
The New York streets
Extraordinary he sent his man to
See the nigga buried
Check the sum though, DT Joe Colombo
Got a tip Brent was out in Florida on the low
Pushing a Benz-O, six-O-O and mo'
He selling smoke out the store
Po kicked in the door
Brent was in the back gambling
With 2 pounds of green on the table
My dunn's escape route was unstable
Of course, he fucked up sniffing white horse
The German's hit his laboratory
With the task force
Brent was too high reached up
Cocked the four-five
First DT hit the back caught
A shell through his eye
He screamed the rest of his police team
Shot Brent to death like a '88 fiend
Young Gods when you killed them
Guns you kill sons
Then get sent to the pen for murder one
I rather be rich, lay back and fuck a chick
Can't now son I'm being hit by a bullet
Nigga shut the fuck up and drown
The keys in the pool
Keep your cool feds knocking on the door soon
See, they heard about that cat you
Murdered in the pool room
You should've swarmed on 'em, stayed in late
Luring doom on 'em
Jet skied on 'em then flew
Around corner on 'em
4 o'clock in the morning I threw
The ski mask on 'em
My little man's on the corner when
I pulled it on 'em 357 snub nosing on 'em
Some bitches that was bugging for
Him you know 'em
The bitches probably still be holding
Went to 25 years on 'em they growing
Now back to the shit with the twelve
On it to be on it
12 O'Clock is on it Darkman on it
And niggas don't want it
Young Gods when you killed them
Guns you kill sons
Then get sent to the pen for murder one
I rather be rich, lay back and fuck a chick
Can't now son I'm being hit by a bullet