| 作词 : Adams, Axelrod | |
| Messing with my cru | |
| Messing with my cru | |
| We will kill you | |
| We will kill you | |
| You don't have a fucking clue | |
| (Clue) | |
| What we came to do | |
| What we came to do | |
| You don't have a fucking clue | |
| What we came to do | |
| What we came to do | |
| Ha, I roll on your doo like bamboo | |
| Man listen, Aknel stay in condition like shampoo | |
| There ain't a man who can handle | |
| Once I back slap you or clap you | |
| Bullets in your skin like a tatoo | |
| Now back to reality, you ain't as bad as me | |
| I get down for my clan till they call me your majesty | |
| Nigga fat as me still fuck with strategy | |
| My dick stuck way up where her blatter be | |
| But that don't matter see, I'll serve your ass like Andre Agassi | |
| Fuck tennis, you dealing with a straight menace | |
| Wailing on your ass like Venice | |
| Well uh, got it sewn like a tailor | |
| Float like a sailor, truck like a trailor | |
| Scope with the [Incomprehensible] | |
| All the above I've done the like Australia | |
| Straight bailing you out, one call from jail | |
| Aiming you out like Master P, that's what we be a about | |
| I got ammunition for those dissing | |
| This ain't R&B, that's why I'm skipping all that rip shit | |
| I land one with the hand gun | |
| You could go ask Charles and he'll tell you | |
| I'm the motherfucking man, son | |
| My gun had bust many mans, watch many mans | |
| Get swept the fuck off, there feet like dust pans | |
| You get touched, man, messing with us man | |
| Messing with my cru | |
| Messing with my cru | |
| We will kill you | |
| We will kill you | |
| You don't have a fucking clue | |
| (Clue) | |
| What we came to do | |
| What we came to do | |
| You don't have a fucking clue | |
| What we came to do | |
| What we came to do | |
| Ha, I'm untouchable like Elliot Ness | |
| My foot will lay you down to rest | |
| And bless you with that Russell Simmons saint | |
| And say thanks for coming out and God bless | |
| Bow, fuck that bullet proof vest | |
| I got hollow pistol leave you with the bullet infested in the chest | |
| It's the Aknel, you know I rock well | |
| I keep the gun point cocked like fucking barbells | |
| Who the hell want to touch this veteran | |
| Murder is the medicine, fine I'll stop the pedaling | |
| Bullet in your brain leave your head in pain | |
| On the ground you'll be laying reaching for exceteran ceteran, ceteran | |
| But fuck that headache 'cuz you headed for a wake | |
| I threw the gun in the lake, so they don't see me upstate | |
| Now they don't have a clue and shit | |
| Around the way I see your name written on the walls | |
| Like rest in peace in you and shit | |
| Your crew they ain't doing shit | |
| Your mom's talking about the city had you suing it | |
| Ha, I got the name Michael inbreded on the mack 11 | |
| They send punk niggas on the highway to heaven | |
| You want to see God hit you with about seven | |
| You want to see God hit you with about seven | |
| Like you shop in Pennsylvania, your blood straight redden | |
| Get it redden Pennsylvania, you want to shoot a fear one | |
| I might swing my hands like Macarena | |
| Messing with my cru | |
| Messing with my cru | |
| We will kill you | |
| We will kill you | |
| You don't have a fucking clue | |
| (Clue) | |
| What we came to do | |
| What we came to do | |
| You don't have a fucking clue | |
| What we came to do | |
| What we came to do | |
| Messing with my cru | |
| Messing with my cru | |
| We will kill you | |
| We will kill you | |
| You don't have a fucking clue | |
| (Clue) | |
| What we came to do | |
| What we came to do | |
| You don't have a fucking clue | |
| What we came to do | |
| What we came to do |
| zuo ci : Adams, Axelrod | |
| Messing with my cru | |
| Messing with my cru | |
| We will kill you | |
| We will kill you | |
| You don' t have a fucking clue | |
| Clue | |
| What we came to do | |
| What we came to do | |
| You don' t have a fucking clue | |
| What we came to do | |
| What we came to do | |
| Ha, I roll on your doo like bamboo | |
| Man listen, Aknel stay in condition like shampoo | |
| There ain' t a man who can handle | |
| Once I back slap you or clap you | |
| Bullets in your skin like a tatoo | |
| Now back to reality, you ain' t as bad as me | |
| I get down for my clan till they call me your majesty | |
| Nigga fat as me still fuck with strategy | |
| My dick stuck way up where her blatter be | |
| But that don' t matter see, I' ll serve your ass like Andre Agassi | |
| Fuck tennis, you dealing with a straight menace | |
| Wailing on your ass like Venice | |
| Well uh, got it sewn like a tailor | |
| Float like a sailor, truck like a trailor | |
| Scope with the Incomprehensible | |
| All the above I' ve done the like Australia | |
| Straight bailing you out, one call from jail | |
| Aiming you out like Master P, that' s what we be a about | |
| I got ammunition for those dissing | |
| This ain' t R B, that' s why I' m skipping all that rip shit | |
| I land one with the hand gun | |
| You could go ask Charles and he' ll tell you | |
| I' m the motherfucking man, son | |
| My gun had bust many mans, watch many mans | |
| Get swept the fuck off, there feet like dust pans | |
| You get touched, man, messing with us man | |
| Messing with my cru | |
| Messing with my cru | |
| We will kill you | |
| We will kill you | |
| You don' t have a fucking clue | |
| Clue | |
| What we came to do | |
| What we came to do | |
| You don' t have a fucking clue | |
| What we came to do | |
| What we came to do | |
| Ha, I' m untouchable like Elliot Ness | |
| My foot will lay you down to rest | |
| And bless you with that Russell Simmons saint | |
| And say thanks for coming out and God bless | |
| Bow, fuck that bullet proof vest | |
| I got hollow pistol leave you with the bullet infested in the chest | |
| It' s the Aknel, you know I rock well | |
| I keep the gun point cocked like fucking barbells | |
| Who the hell want to touch this veteran | |
| Murder is the medicine, fine I' ll stop the pedaling | |
| Bullet in your brain leave your head in pain | |
| On the ground you' ll be laying reaching for exceteran ceteran, ceteran | |
| But fuck that headache ' cuz you headed for a wake | |
| I threw the gun in the lake, so they don' t see me upstate | |
| Now they don' t have a clue and shit | |
| Around the way I see your name written on the walls | |
| Like rest in peace in you and shit | |
| Your crew they ain' t doing shit | |
| Your mom' s talking about the city had you suing it | |
| Ha, I got the name Michael inbreded on the mack 11 | |
| They send punk niggas on the highway to heaven | |
| You want to see God hit you with about seven | |
| You want to see God hit you with about seven | |
| Like you shop in Pennsylvania, your blood straight redden | |
| Get it redden Pennsylvania, you want to shoot a fear one | |
| I might swing my hands like Macarena | |
| Messing with my cru | |
| Messing with my cru | |
| We will kill you | |
| We will kill you | |
| You don' t have a fucking clue | |
| Clue | |
| What we came to do | |
| What we came to do | |
| You don' t have a fucking clue | |
| What we came to do | |
| What we came to do | |
| Messing with my cru | |
| Messing with my cru | |
| We will kill you | |
| We will kill you | |
| You don' t have a fucking clue | |
| Clue | |
| What we came to do | |
| What we came to do | |
| You don' t have a fucking clue | |
| What we came to do | |
| What we came to do |
| zuò cí : Adams, Axelrod | |
| Messing with my cru | |
| Messing with my cru | |
| We will kill you | |
| We will kill you | |
| You don' t have a fucking clue | |
| Clue | |
| What we came to do | |
| What we came to do | |
| You don' t have a fucking clue | |
| What we came to do | |
| What we came to do | |
| Ha, I roll on your doo like bamboo | |
| Man listen, Aknel stay in condition like shampoo | |
| There ain' t a man who can handle | |
| Once I back slap you or clap you | |
| Bullets in your skin like a tatoo | |
| Now back to reality, you ain' t as bad as me | |
| I get down for my clan till they call me your majesty | |
| Nigga fat as me still fuck with strategy | |
| My dick stuck way up where her blatter be | |
| But that don' t matter see, I' ll serve your ass like Andre Agassi | |
| Fuck tennis, you dealing with a straight menace | |
| Wailing on your ass like Venice | |
| Well uh, got it sewn like a tailor | |
| Float like a sailor, truck like a trailor | |
| Scope with the Incomprehensible | |
| All the above I' ve done the like Australia | |
| Straight bailing you out, one call from jail | |
| Aiming you out like Master P, that' s what we be a about | |
| I got ammunition for those dissing | |
| This ain' t R B, that' s why I' m skipping all that rip shit | |
| I land one with the hand gun | |
| You could go ask Charles and he' ll tell you | |
| I' m the motherfucking man, son | |
| My gun had bust many mans, watch many mans | |
| Get swept the fuck off, there feet like dust pans | |
| You get touched, man, messing with us man | |
| Messing with my cru | |
| Messing with my cru | |
| We will kill you | |
| We will kill you | |
| You don' t have a fucking clue | |
| Clue | |
| What we came to do | |
| What we came to do | |
| You don' t have a fucking clue | |
| What we came to do | |
| What we came to do | |
| Ha, I' m untouchable like Elliot Ness | |
| My foot will lay you down to rest | |
| And bless you with that Russell Simmons saint | |
| And say thanks for coming out and God bless | |
| Bow, fuck that bullet proof vest | |
| I got hollow pistol leave you with the bullet infested in the chest | |
| It' s the Aknel, you know I rock well | |
| I keep the gun point cocked like fucking barbells | |
| Who the hell want to touch this veteran | |
| Murder is the medicine, fine I' ll stop the pedaling | |
| Bullet in your brain leave your head in pain | |
| On the ground you' ll be laying reaching for exceteran ceteran, ceteran | |
| But fuck that headache ' cuz you headed for a wake | |
| I threw the gun in the lake, so they don' t see me upstate | |
| Now they don' t have a clue and shit | |
| Around the way I see your name written on the walls | |
| Like rest in peace in you and shit | |
| Your crew they ain' t doing shit | |
| Your mom' s talking about the city had you suing it | |
| Ha, I got the name Michael inbreded on the mack 11 | |
| They send punk niggas on the highway to heaven | |
| You want to see God hit you with about seven | |
| You want to see God hit you with about seven | |
| Like you shop in Pennsylvania, your blood straight redden | |
| Get it redden Pennsylvania, you want to shoot a fear one | |
| I might swing my hands like Macarena | |
| Messing with my cru | |
| Messing with my cru | |
| We will kill you | |
| We will kill you | |
| You don' t have a fucking clue | |
| Clue | |
| What we came to do | |
| What we came to do | |
| You don' t have a fucking clue | |
| What we came to do | |
| What we came to do | |
| Messing with my cru | |
| Messing with my cru | |
| We will kill you | |
| We will kill you | |
| You don' t have a fucking clue | |
| Clue | |
| What we came to do | |
| What we came to do | |
| You don' t have a fucking clue | |
| What we came to do | |
| What we came to do |
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