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FiteBack, FiteBack Yeah So I'm marinating at home, sippin’ cheap wine in the recline I'm on bottle two, so this beast fine Bitch givin' me a lap dance but honey heavy She weigh more than a 3500 Chevy She lifted her belly, wack surprise Pussy had fro like the Jackson 5 Just then, rounds, rounds, get down They wanna nix this wicked clown I took a look, the girl was cooked, her head exploded Reached for the uzi at my foot and unloaded But them hoes got away in time And my bitch headless, but she’ll be fine I shot back in the passion's heat Killed somebody grandma across the street They all gon' die, no, they can't hide As soon as we find out who We gonna ride down to West Vernor Avenue (Hey) And open fuckin' fire (Move, bitch) We gonna ride down to West Vernor Avenue (Hey) And burn our fuckin' tires (Tires) The Southwest Side is like Baghdad, yeah Letras de cancionesPeople get killed for a gang rag, yeah If you're my enemy, I'll make your brain hang, yeah Out the side of your head, big game of tag, huh You’re it, bitch, "it" being dead And it was a basehead chick who said Her brother’s boys, The Murder Rats Was who tried to kill me, I heart that Pow, bitch, head paints the wall Bitch dead, but she ain't fall Still propped up, vacant look in her eyes Death’s quite the surprise We gonna ride down to West Vernor Avenue (Hey) And open fuckin' fire (Move, bitch) We gonna ride down to West Vernor Avenue (Hey) And burn our fuckin' tires (Whoop, whoop) Looking for revenge, three hours Where the fuck are these bitch-ass cowards? Searching the ghetto zone, all sides of it Like pussy holes, they're rarely seen in public We asked Big Red and Meth Head Sally Yeah, I took a sec and got head in the alley We went back home, almost got inside But J called, he found ’em Shaggy, yo, them cocksuckers tried to kill you Dumping hot slugs through your home, what the fuck? Let's ride and go make some headlines (Some headlines) Five dead in the ghetto zone, whoop, whoop Duck low, rode by three times, triple checkin' And as best we wreckin', it's them Slangin' that bath salt and that spice Today, though, bad advice Four scrubs in a bucket, pullin' up dumpin' Empty the full clip, quickly bust 'em Pop, pap, pop, pap, pop, pap (Stop that) Shot dead all five We had to ride down to West Vernor Avenue (Hey) And open fuckin' fire (Move, bitch) We had to ride down to West Vernor Avenue (Hey) And burn our fuckin' tires (Whoop, whoop) Ha-ha-ha-ha No one even called the police, ha-ha-ha Dead on the street all damn week, okay We had to ride down to West Vernor Avenue (Hey) And open fuckin' fire (Move, bitch) We had to ride down to West Vernor Avenue (Hey) And burn our fuckin' tires (Whoop, whoop) Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh Willaby's words of wisdom, bitch Don't expect peace and tranquility Without at least some hostility, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha And if you're on easy street, bitch You've got some potholes comin' Some are gonna be so deep You can look down 'em and see old Beelzebub himself (Brother) Pinchin' a hot loaf Like, what the fuck? From Letras Mania