Central Coast Clique - I'll k** You lyrics

[Triple C] Big Bow, 13 motherf**er Big Bow, 13 [Triple C] Another jam from the mind of the double D I put it down for the homies and the Central Coast Family Some wicked sh** pounding out your box A little something to bump when you're cooking them rocks We all got our own ways of making the green You do whatever it takes to get up onto the scene I do what I do, staying true to the blue Southside 13, what about you fool? Run and hide and get out your map Leva motherf**ers from the other side to the tracks I never forgive and punk I never forget It ain't over motherf**ers, no not just yet Move out of scene, I knew you would leave I got another motherf**ing trick up my sleeve Smoke you like a roach, can I make it last? Like a quick half ounce, another thing from the past You're the kind of motherf**er talking sh** b**h I'm the kind of motherf**er making the hit list When I see you in the street you better run and cover Cuz if I pull out my gat, I shoot to k** motherf**er [Lil' Rob] It's the Lil' Rob Known like the mob cuz I be dropping them hits Giving it till you who*es can't stand, giving it till your heart quits It's open, hoping for another chance f** that fat hyna, it's ain't over till the hyna dance Glance at a man with no worries, full of teary Riddle at me, loose, hang you fools from a noose Then light you up on fire, put away my lighter f** the f**ing Devil, I'm the one that he admires Inquiring minds want to know How the f** we can be so f**ing sick and quick to stick p**y The cheif enemies got the remedy To make more enemies than anybody in the pen with a felony Now you're mad at me I'm just glad we had the chance to be friendly before I k**ed you f**ing family Say you're understanding me, fool you ain't no man to me Pulling petty crimes, thinking that you're gonna flatter me b**h I could give a f** about what you're doing I could give a f** about what, who that you flew Make you sick like the flu, I know how to spook you All it takes is a bullet, you'll be shaking in your shoes What kind of d**h do you choose? Homicide or suicide? Circle one, call me Gato cuz the cat got your tounge Ese young, 21, people saying that I'm done But the more sh** that you talk, the more fun has begun Leave your a** rung, let alone your a** hung Chop you up with my machete with my hockey mask on Better yet I'll paint my face up like Dead Presidents In your neighborhood, nothing but dead residents When I get through with them, set them up and have a brew with them While the juras wondering what to do with them Cuz there's so many of them, God must not have loved them Cuz he let me do what I did, close their eye lids [Mr. Shadow] Now who be batty, coming trying to diss my sk**s It's that evil-minded demon, shoving fools under the hills Motherf**ers try to run but they can never hide, I find em Putting the bullets in, hollow tips and I blind em Shadow be that one bald-headed fool ready to bust The man of steel who turns his rivals into f**ing dust I must admit to all the sh** that I commited All the f**ing bodies and the craniums that I splitted I spitted many rhymes, I flipped so many sounds Take these fools into depressions like the year of 95 Homicide got me tripping That's why I'm loading a clip Motherf**ers trying to trip They end up looking just like sh**