Keep thinking I'm candy 'till ya fucking skull get popped
And ya brain jump out the top like Jack-in-the-box
In the hood summer time is the killing season
It's hot out this bitch that's a good enough reason
I've seen gangstas get religious when they start bleeding
Saying "Lord, Jesus help me" cause they ass leaking
When they window roll down and that A.K. come out
You can squeeze ya little handgun until you run out
And you can run for ya backup
But them machine gun shells gone tear ya back up
God's on ya side? Shit, I'm aight with that
Cause we gon' reload them clips and come right back
It's a fact, homie, you go against me ya fucked
I get the drop, if you can duck ya luckier then Lady Luck
Look, nigga, don't think you safe cause you moved out the hood
Cause ya mama still around, dawg, and that ain't good
If you was smart you'd be shook of me
Cause I'd get tired of looking for ya, spray ya mama crib
And let ya ass look for me