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[Akon] Convicts, it's the convicts Testing one two three, we come [Chorus: Akon] I said call Mr. Martin, tell 'im to build a coffin Today is death season, a hundred MC's a get murderin I said call Mr. Martin, tell 'im to build a coffin Today is death season, a hundred soundbwoys a get murderin, yeah Lay flat, lay flat, lay flat, lay flat Came with a full clip I got one shot left Everybody lay flat, lay flat, lay flat, lay flat Came with a full clip I got one shot left [Pras Michel] Everytime I BREATHE I feel like they're killin me It seems death my only way to my destiny You see crazy the bwoy that go against my rap I'm like Moses when I strike down my staff See my wordplay, is like arts and craft And my gunplay will blast any Babylon in my path Win lose or draw, the bloodiest bath Fifth to the fist is the cruddiest jab Ever seen, pocket stays ever green Like Christmas trees I dismiss these Fool slide, close my eyes, lead the blind Letras de cancionesDecapitate you, ease your mind Haitian homes, lethal lines, it's my time, to shine I resurrect like Lazareth Baby I'ma cancel death Got to survive in this main maniac depression Fuck y'all, 'scuse my expression [Chorus] w/ ad libs [Akon] Ticky ticky tock on my golden hen She layin next to this gentlemen Sometimes glock 9, sometimes mac-10 Hooooo... You see whenever she lay down she cock an alarm Cock cock cock, cock me lay down Time to lay low (time to lay low) Time to lay low (time to lay low) Tick-a-tick-a-tock, tick-a-tick-a-tick-a-tick-a-tick-a-tock Tick-a-tick-a-tock, tick-a-tick-a-tick-a-tick-a-tick-a-tock Let me tell 'em, yo [Pras Michel] Aiyyo this life ain't for livin it's for, fightin wars No matter what the truth is, hold on to what's yours Never forget the day they crucified Jesus Christ And the day they turned their backs on the civil rights Lyrically, we trained to assass' y'all Stash flat irons, thinner than plasmas Cardiac arrest, give a big man asthma Run for ya life if you think you got stamina Caught an ounce of lead, watch how Babylon spreads You know the type that'll run to the feds Never ran, never real cop Port-au-Prince It's an avalanche, homey you don't stand a chance ... ants in your pants You wanna rock, these bullets'll make you dance Homies thought I'd be driven away in a black hearse But the first shall be last, the last be first [Chorus] w/ ad libs From Letras Mania