Project Pat - Pure Anna lyrics

[Hook: Project Pat (DJ Paul & Juicy J)] 4x (Pure Anna for you hoes, Pure Anna for you hoes) Where the hollow-point shells land, man nobody knows [Verse 1: Project Pat] It seems like I might not even make it out here on these bricks Might have to murder a chick, might have to k** a b**h Maybe they gon' knock me up for dope a** lyrics that I spit Like they did my n***a C-Bo, stressing gangsta sh** Look into the pit of my eyes, feel my anger Seventeen rounds out the clip, through the chamber I heard you cowards, mane, would love to see me and my n***as Die a violent d**h from a gun, your hand on the trigger n***a you can do whatever the f** you think you need Snort you up some lines to build your heart, I'm gon' hit this weed I procede, hoe, I'll die for mine, I'm ready to catch a caper Most my n***as either on parole or some kinda paper Fakers out here, mane, they hate.. Real n***as with a pa**ion Project ain't yo' friend, motherf**er, label me a**a**in Strictly blastin', casting', b**h; made n***as straight to hell f** them laws, cause if I get caught.. I ain't scared of jail [[Chorus]] [Verse 2: Scan Man] Please don't test these murderers Push our slugs to your mug, ate your skin up with no love It is I, the almighty Scan Man, from the k**a Klan Insane in the brain, still throwin' bodies off the train In the sky, mystic, black; time for a rib clench On my victim because he tested, madness And my tech 9 got me aimin' at your spine My 357 blast and at the written right on time They never find.. Your body parts, buried in my backyard Daddy's hanging from a tree, granny has no f**ing spleen Mommy's in the garden, pregnant, fixin' up the soil.. So I took my knife and ripped her fetus out so it was for.. No more, her bustas' rip a rim around the chest Now it's me, with the Anna that put you hoes to rest But they call me crazy cause I said I ripped her fetus out her belly.. It's not that I'm a psychotic, I'm just takin' cares of my business [[Chorus]] [Verse 3: MC Mack] Hopped off in my T., yo, Monte Carlo, whoa, roll things These bustas must back-up, and b**hes must maintain The Mack, I gotta express myself And break it on down for these folks that don't hear me, though Counterfeit smile, Mack-hater you ain't wild Triple Six and k**a Klan got them thangs to your temple Why these smoked up b**hes all upset, is it cause it went state to state? Getting calls from a broad that I f**ed in the past Still mad cause your man got this song on tape Murder, murder, R-izz-edrum The outcome left a body numb Putting it down for all the Macks, with a k**er in-track with fire-arms I see your jealous envy from them diamonds glistenin' around my neck From trick to treat, we done played your b**h, smokin' green, stackin Gs From morning-checks; purse first, a** last, you wanna know who's under the mask Another dirty thug from the south, and I'm breaking backs I'm chiefin' like an Indian, and the dust, that's the type of stage I'm in Still blastin' with this, y'all, come say hello to my little friend From the streets of Memphis to the world, this clique done hit the top The whop-bop straight from the Glock 'til your blood clots MC Mack and I got.. [[Chorus]]