Lyrics
See, I’m like 2Took
All over niggas look
When I be posted
Some niggas walk through in a drop stain
Like muggin, gettin toasted
See we like slittin the cust or grab the gats
While them marks walk through
See Harvard’s a dead ass street
So we will like have to bust at you and uh
I think them marks are down the wayway
So baybay
Start bussin caps for the grave homies and jayjay
It must have been a lucky day
That 351 was out there barkin
They got away clean and smooth while my niggas was steady sparkin, see
I know the drama’s gone be on
I phone, to my brother Took cause he the backbone
He be like organizing the violence that take place up on this blocc
You fuck around with this posse, you might wind up gettin glocked
GiggityGlock, I’m on the blocc
Labeled the loccsta
Posted on the side of a house just like a poster
I’m ready to dial the seven digits
And see if you can get it
Cause tonight is life is shorter than a midget
Hook x4:
I put the mortiary number up on his pager
Don’t fuck with me
Verse 2:
Well creepy, creepy, here I come
Climb the wall like Spiderman
See, Hitman’s out the ???
Cause, I been rippin on Harvard all day long mane
Now, it’s time to muzzle them niggas with the G-L-O-C-K
Waiting for a payday
So now it’s time to get my squad and rush up in his?
And if you know it’s an enemy, we spot it as a target
Grab my?
Sucka ass niggas is prohibited
Get with this
Cause if you runnin up mane, you’re just bound to get mistreated
Battered and beated, lie down like?
Cause suckas be tryina play
It’s time to huff and puff
I’mma shoot about
Cause one little pinky got away that means it’s bout 7 days
It’s time to put the code on his pager
And let him know it’s major
Hook x4:
I put the mortiary number up on his pager
Don’t fuck with me
Verse 3:
Well it’s about time I school niggas like?
Deep fry that? like some freshly made?
You know you can’t fuck with this gang
I’m like some clothes without no hanger
Boy, you know you can’t hang so, uhm
Act like you knew
You should have been a ???
And no, you can’t put no salt on this Frisco pimpin
I tried that ass like Bart, you fucking little Simpson
Just give me a fuckin toolbox cause I lost all my screws
My last name is Church so it’s time for you to pay your sunday dues
And if you don’t, fool this show ain’t no hope
My breath don’t stank
But yes, I got the scope
Point it at your dome
Here in '94
I’m runnin around, walkin up to niggas just like they was ???
So you don’t have to get the yellow pages
Cause I left that mortiary number in your fucking pager
Hook x4:
I put the mortiary number up on his pager
Don’t fuck with me
Verse 4:
In my backyard, it’s a gang of bodies that’s buried
When you walk in my backyard, you walkin on a cemetery
When I was born, I was born on the 13th
My best friend was Freddy, yo, we used to live on Elm Street
Back when I was young
About ten years old
Jim Jones was my idol cause he took alot of souls
Now that I’m older, I got alot of cis
No fingerprints to be found and not a lick of evidence
Playin out the murder before I heard another victim
Pulled the lick before I stick him on the ground
That’s when I kick em
Leave em dead or dying with his eyes open wide
Get some dank and go high to get my mind of the homicide
Turned on the news to see what they was sayin
They said The Taker struck again for his twelft straight slayin
Because the nigga got played like Sega
So I hooked the mortiary number up on his pager