Communications

Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo
Just got off the jack with my son thats up north
Tellin me he's comin home, and how he's gettin off
'cuz his game was weak, killed two months, he's back in the streets
With new plans, to expand, to jerk his mans man
We had the ultimate stick up, drop, on the brick pick up
But yo he can't, 'cuz he's still locked up
Jump back on the horn 'cuz his vibe was strong
Contacted the kid and told him lets be gone
I talked to poet first, yo son, I got a mish-shon
Grab the ammunnish-shon, pump up your pythons
I know a spot where niggas gettin it, and we can flip on
Son they frustrate me, 'cuz these niggas pump with no heat
They play the night time sweet, like they can't get beat
I got their address, to where they rest and stash their shit
Yo, I peeped it out how we can creep, yo yo yo
These niggas stay sleep
Makin sales, smokin out, and they all get ? geeked?
Lets catch 'em zoning, brain under, high and headed home and
When they least expect it, lets put the gat to his dome
He stuck the key in the door, we ? ? ? four four
We pushed our way in, we wasnt playin
Ready to spray 'em, tied him down to the a.m.
Now we layin, for a beamer, and some bitch named fatima