Афонина Татьяна фотограф Москва
571 3 часа назад

Текст песни Fiend - On a Mission

Fiend - On a Mission слова песни




[c-murder talking]You know you done fucked up? You know you done fucked up, dont ya? Nigga you really fucked up.We on a muthafuckin mission.Im ridin dirty with my tru muthafuckas.Fiend, steady mobbin, c-murder in this bitch.Retaliation is a must.Dumpin rounds on my muthafuckin adversaries.[c-murder]Nigga, nigga ridin dirty for revengeWith my friends, Im on a caperReady to kill em, if I see emFuck alarm, hold my paperIm a rider, so I leave em where I left emWhen I creep, niggas sleepAnd they aint restin til they deep up in the concreteJungle with them slangers, with them bangers and them hustlersWith them killers, smokin woo and makin deals with my tru niggasFiend had some yay, so we flipped it on the blockSteady mobbin flew from cali so we put em up on the spotServin dub sacks and flippers, fifty shots and quarter bagsRaisin riches no matter week, servin keys out paper bagsAnd hustlin hard, countin money by the sackWatch my back, niggas jackSweet revenge, counter attack up in my lacSippin hennesy and chronic, Im the tweak for some magicRollin the window, nigga, its him so pistol playin bout to have itFuckin bullets gots no name nigga you name is on this oneRidin dirty with my tru bitches so nigga on a mission[chorus:] (lines echo in background) x 4In on a mission, ridin dirty with my tru thugsRetaliation, dumpin rounds, with no love[fiend]Fiend, my reason to gunplayLoadin my chopper right up the one wayWishin we facin a dead endSo I could show how this gun sprayJust one damn word, thats all I desireSo I could bend these niggas back like chicken wireSpittin fire, mobbin, son when them bullets get to pourin(..? ..) get my adrenalin goinI aint ignorin, no problems, no worries babyI severed the crusher, and buried my (..? ..)Over the dresser, fiend the trigga my lesserGon test ya, with a season to killAnd catch me celebratin across the battlefieldLoco, this is the deal, lets put the gunTo the small of his neck, we got caught up and blastUntil theres nothing left, boyI thought some more niggas kept, what? what? Cause I aint facin prisonExercising my right to exorcismCompleted my mission, huh? By lettin the land just listenCause they the reason my lil homie aint livinSo, we on a missionChorus x 4[steady mobbin 1](..? ..) the cleaner, alias saddam, nigga(whats up there? ) cold cop killersNow its really on (whats up fool? )Being crooked, we do it dirty, (we doing it!)C-murder and fiend (there they go!)We dump the fifty round magazineLocin and mobbin, til its clean (make sure its clean)Hooked up with the colonel, and the billy, cause I need creamFifteen five, made twenty five, six hummer size (nigga!)Muthafuckas died, (nigga!) all in one night (they die!)[steady mobbin 2] (a lot of these lines are overlapped by screams,Gunshots, etc. hard to understand...)Pulled the trigga on my nigga (not my nigga, damn!)As the forty caliber shell, blew up in the neckTwice in the head, he was dead fore his body hit the ground(damn dog, dont go nigga!)Bitches scream, nigga (..? ..)Pull up next to the bodies, I was runninMy dogs head was blew offIm bustin hella (? ) (buck, buck, buck)Hit the drivers side window, as they crash into a pole(..? ..), with a few left in the clipSome for the driver, the passengerAnd the rest of the trigger men

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