Тональность: D minor•
Verse 1
Dm
Ha ha ha ha ha, Steels
You bout to catch this vick
Verse 2
Yo, you bout to catch this vick
Dm
Old sad ballads and gun permits
was invalid
Raspberry vinegar,
red dripped in spinach salad
Sippin' bitches,
F
Cabanet grape, steaming halibut steak
Gold plate is stainless,
four forks scrape the silver plate
Dm
Chased by a shot of Scotch whiskey,
brew brisky
For sixty years, misty bottles of
Crysty in the freezer
Red twist leaf,
F
melted in spliffy, Cali blunt piff
Now we lifty, MC dread head, split
Dm
up and smoke swiftly
Then if we empty the safe we
can all catch fifty
Vanna piece put eighty
five in jewelry
Two sixty in deep, a half a gallon Digi
When dog mentioned hingie, then
when they tempted me
All up a nine milli', I brought my
wild cousin Billy
This fucking Wu hater, from off of Decatur
Bout to get smacked silly, Kinetic was like
Yo, Bobby, don't act illy,
let me handle this shit
We rolled the candle sick spliff, we hopped
And through the gear on shift,
about to catch this vick
Verse 3
Dm
[Chorus: x2] It's the
season of the vick,
F
bitch, you getting hit up
With so much weight, so much lead,
Dm
you won't be able to get up
F
Dm
Verse 4
Yo, kick in the door, spit a lungie at him, son,
tried to bungie
Grab 'em, through 'em on the floor,
smacked 'em, my dudes bout to stab 'em
Bitch was in the bathroom, screaming,
hot bubble batch, steaming
You can tell from her face,
she just finished swallowing semen
Shut the fuck up,
open the safe up, no time to waste up
Heard you been hating on Wu- Tang,
we should burn your fucking place up
He was like 'Yo, Bobby Steels,
F
chill, for real, please spare me'
Billy put the gun to his face like 'Bobby,
Dm
go 'head, try to dare me'
I was like 'Nah, son, chill,
ain't necessary'
His bird was in the background,
still singing like a canary
Told 'em, open up the safe or prepare
When the gun starts to click,
Dm
and we spit, that crazy scary
Open it up, it was filled with drugs
and jewelry and cash
And me, oh,
I simply grabbed the Digi
Tied 'em up and gagged up,
duct tape and paper bagged him
Him and his bitch, in the whip, yup,
we back in the magnum
Return to the dread spread,
gave him his cut of the bread
Rumor has it, Billy duffed them other
F
Dm
cuts with dead
F
[Chorus: x4]
Outro 1
Dm
F
Dm
F
Dm
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