The Invitation

Album: Before I Self Destruct (2009)
Charted: 97
  • I had five hundred grams in fifty-fifty-eight bags
    Four-hundred Benz, eight-thousand in cash.
    Then the ball dropped, gun popped, banks got blast
    I make it so hot, one shot'll melt your ass
    Got popped up, cried till my eyes turned red
    Told myself in the mirror nigga you ain't dead
    I'm far from eccentric, I'm so psychotic
    I don't need you to shoot for me, nigga I got it
    When you see me in the hood muh'fucker don't talk to me
    'Less you wan' talk about usin' a hawk for me.
    When Al blew Black away I had 'em on some stupid shit
    Then my rap shit worked, now I'm super stupid rich
    All I do is stunt now, I'm so Maybach
    There I go frontin' again I meant to say laid back
    Go 'head move wreckless get banged for necklace
    I serve 'em with the semi feed 'em a clip for breakfast.

    You want some, come get some
    Nigga it's murder one, when I toss my gun
    You might see me let it off, you might see me run
    But you won't see shit, time the police come huh

    You want some, come get some
    Nigga it's murder one when you see my gun
    I jus' squeeze and squeeze 'til the whole clip done
    You jus' bleed and bleed till the police come, huh you want some

    I got a 8th of dope left half a pound of purple
    Shooters in my circle, try me I let 'em murk you
    Got more guns than a gun store, beefin' what you want boy
    You wan' be nice to me you wan' shoot dice with me?
    You want a ace on purpose why you so nervous?
    Nigga we from the same hood we come from the same shit
    You got gonorrhea too, we fucked with the same bitch
    Gettin' money is necessary so me I'm a visionary
    And I'm sayin' that house should be a crackhouse
    Now see it how I see it, or I bring the straps out
    The Tec and the mack out the Sig and the Taurus
    The coke and that heckler then nigga we warin'
    I let my pistol speak for me and all of 'em foreign.
    Click-clack comprende I'm criminal minded
    Toss money in the sewer bet nobody find it
    Till it's rusty and fucked up, forensics have fun what?

    You want some, come get some
    Nigga it's murder one, when I toss my gun
    You might see me let it off, you might see me run
    But you won't see shit, time the police come huh

    You want some, come get some
    Nigga it's murder one when you see my gun
    I jus' squeeze and squeeze 'til the whole clip done
    You jus' bleed and bleed till the police come, huh you want some

    Come get it, I'm strapped now, I'm with it
    Come get it!
    Huh, you want some?
    Come get it, I'm strapped now, I'm with it!
    Fuck that nigga!
    Huh, you want some? Writer/s: Curtis James Jackson, Manoro Perez Williams, Tyrone Gregory Fyffe
    Publisher: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., MISSING LINK MUSIC
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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