Turn the beat up (Stays on that Philly shit, Public Enemy #1!)
Uh huh (State Prop. South, you know what it is)
Turn my mic down a little bit (The Mack's back, Guess what? I shot you)
Yeah, that joint knockin' right there (Slim chance mother fucker)
I need that shit knockin' all in my head (They cut a industry exclusive, Mr. C.O.D.)
It's knockin' like, (My nigga Mook Jones in the track!)
Like, like (It's what it is pimpin'!)
Who shot ya? Nigga feelin' lead from my chopper
We can grab our piece, and get this ceased, and get it on nigga
Take this shit to the streets
But you'd rather rat and squeak to police
Until you get hit with the four pound heat
Blood start to leak, heart beat get weak
Send him to the priest, forever you'll sleep
Six feet deep, you drownin' in shits' creek
The sandman visit niggas in they sleep
Picture me in prison gettin' visits by the week
Even if they cuff 'em, my boys got instructions (Yeah)
Strictly destruction, everybody sufferin'
Your kids? Butt fuck 'em, stomp 'em with constructions
Show mercy or nothin', beat until they skin pussin'
Slaughter, torture, pour acid on your daughter
Get bitch pregnant, rape her, make her break her water
(Who shot ya?)
Now you can go tell Jay that, lame niggas
It's the same nigga, (Uh) Enquire's front page nigga (Who shot ya?)
Like Bin Laden with his K in the cave, nigga
Hitman for hire, guns gettin' paid nigga (Who shot ya?)
I got a hundred for your head in the bag
Another hundred if it's broad day on a ass (Who shot ya?)
Nigga all's you seen was the light from the heat (Who shot ya?)
Mask on tight, get away was so sweet
A buncha black smoke, dual exhaust on the Jeep
Back tire screech, but ain't mark up the streets
Homicide got the chalk up the street
Yellow tape off the block, when I quick off the Glock
Extended clips, silencers on the hammers
Gats won't slip, rubber grips on the handles
Thou shalt not fuck with Be' Sig' rappin'
Prepare for that trip in that Caddy
I'm killin' you like full blown here, rape your kids
Like in the first verse but this shit get worse
No need for the hearse when the four pound burst
Blow up your face then show up at the wake
Piss on the casket, or dump out your ashes
Shoot up the choir, light the church on fire (Who shot ya?)
Go 'head nigga, rap 'til it pop
(Who shot ya?)
Now you can go tell Jay that, lame niggas
It's the same nigga, (Uh) Enquire's front page nigga (Who shot ya?)
Like Bin Laden with his K in the cave, nigga (They brought the real nigga Mook Jones!)
Hitman for hire, guns gettin' paid nigga (Prince!) (Who shot ya?)
I got a hundred for your head in the bag (Yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Another hundred if it's broad day on a ass (Who shot ya?)
(Prince, prince, prince, prince, prince)
Nigga all's you seen was the light from the heat (Ye, yo, yo) (Who shot ya?)
I'm fuckin' with guys who fuckin' with pies
Machiavelli 'til he touchin' the sky, Kanye-oh!
Oh my, what's up in the ride?
45's send 'em up to the sky, God save 'em
Mackin' like the sun up, stackin' for a Hummer
Outside with my guys, trap like I oughta
Jackas' all wonder, am I packin' me some thunder?
Ridin' with the package in my bumper
Yes I address guys, put 'em in neckties
Do it big like I'm from Bed-Stuy (BABY!)
That adrenaline, hittin' like a freefall
All I do is steal and shoot, it's like b-ball
We all that, we can be
Even the Army don't want war with me, so (No)
Keep thinkin' I'm candy, bring the family
Expose these hoes and show these niggas they panties
(Who shot ya?)
Now you can go tell Jay that, lame niggas
It's the same nigga, (Uh) Enquire's front page nigga (Who shot ya?)
Like Bin Laden with his K in the cave, nigga
Hitman for hire, guns gettin' paid nigga (Who shot ya?)
I got a hundred for your head in the bag
Another hundred if it's broad day on a ass (Who shot ya?)
Nigga all's you seen was the light from the heat (Who shot ya?)
(Who shot ya?)
(Who shot ya?)
