Late last nite, I was in the bed, eyes red Thinkin' about project pat, and what the fuckin jury said Givin' him what they gave him, then they put him in handcuffs Motherfuck dem laws, I'ma make you put yo hands up Don't cross the line, yellow take the police brand up Outside the court, norf memphis and we klanned up I can be a leader, bring the heata, like a farakhan
I can be a terroist to the government like a taliban Long as ya black, and ya wrist they put they targets on Watchin' niggas every move, tappin' niggas cell phones Don't, fall, for the okay, don't, call, and I'll bring the dope And we gon' smoke we till the break of dawn Trapped in this hood where there ain't no motherfuckin bon And to that officer I know your stompin' ground here But if you ain't from my hood, get yo ass from round here
First I'm gonna catch the bitch Then I'm gonna beat the bitch Then I'm gonna bury bitch Shouldn't of been talkin' shit You knew who you was fuckin wit Fuckin wit the fuckin best She who you fuckin been Now I'm aimin' at yo chest
This goes out to all of y'all All of y'all be talkin' shit Slip the clip up in the gun Then commence to bust a nig Bust a nig, at ya dawg Watchin' you niggas fall Screamin' out like a bitch Mane that's just some petty shit
I'm into blood baths, I don't, fine I'll punch ya I'ma hit yo ass wit the fuckin rocket launcher Can you stand the pain, insane, bounty hunta Stop long, see ya pulp, till ya unconscious Throw you in the dumpsta, lord catch a conquer Lord don't, pistol play jump up, if ya want ta This is the unda, buried by yo momma Not only do I murder mane I also am bomb ya
Picture this, you a juror and you on the stand And you about the judge the life of a black man Young brotha from the hood made it rappin' and Wit a knot in his pocket weighin least a grand Here's the story he got caught wit some fire arms By a crooked ass cop wit his siren awn He was known as a felon made it bigga than state The whole case turned fed made him lose his faith
Picture this, now the judge he got hatred for crooks Because ten years ago he was appointed by bush Republican white man, and he don't give a fuck If the guns wasn't his that was found in his truck Prosecutors, shady lawyers, mane who can you trust All this palm greasy shit, mane it's bigga than us Make you wanna be like fuck it hit the trunk of the car Deliberation it was time for the jury to star Killa klan
Compositor: Jordan Houston (Juicy J) ECAD: Obra #30452269