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(Fuck!) Killer on a killing spree, killer on a killing spree East side, west side, bitch, you better not fuck with me Killer on a killing spree, killer on a killing spree (dwilly, I'm scared!) Let that choppa—let that choppa—let that choppa— Walk up out the door, left a note up on my dresser They tell me everyday that life is on its way to better But I can't seem to shake the fact that I've been getting fed up That's why my mind is drifting to the thought of a Beretta Got the .35 rippin' and the .45, bang, yeah Subwoofer knockin', I'm rockin' that motherfucker for a bag, uh Comin from nothin', I made it to richеs I tell 'em to throw out the rags, huh 'Mеmber when I was just washin' them dishes and now I be poppin' them tags B-B-Bitch, I’m back with a black mask, any motherfucker wanna back track Bitch, I been about it, gonna put 'em in a body bag Body back tucked in a black van, ride for the gang until I—until I— 'Til I die, bitch, I’m riding for the gang (The gang) Tell 'em "Fuck the money", and I tell 'em "Fuck the fame" (The fame) Stayin' on the low, bitch, they stayin' on my case (Case) Every day, I wake up, put a mask upon my face 'Til I'—'til I die, bitch, I’m riding for the gang (The gang) Tell 'em "Fuck the money", and I tell 'em "Fuck the fame" (The fame) Stayin' on the low, bitch, they stayin' on my case (Case) Every day, I wake up, put a mask upon my face Letras de cancionesAyy, .45 make 'em fly like doves in the spotlight, bitch, that's us Lettin' off shots with the men I trust Bitch, I'm smokin' that thrax 'til the sun come up I think its that time of the month, money come in, then I'm pilin' it up Stay back if you ain't ridin' with us Five in the mornin', I'm letting off shell, like I need more miles in the bus And the bank got stacked, I get paid to relax One last puff and I'm fadin' to black Fuck around, bitch, get a fade with a MAC In a three story crib, I ain't pay for the rent Ge-ge-getting high, smoking swishers, don't got no time for y'all bitches Let it bang, shit get wicked, boy a stain, he washed like dishes 'Til I die, bitch, I’m riding for the gang (The gang) Tell 'em "Fuck the money", and I tell 'em "Fuck the fame" (The fame) Stayin' on the low, bitch, they stayin' on my case (Case) Every day, I wake up, put a mask upon my face 'Til I'—'til I die, bitch, I’m riding for the gang (The gang) Tell 'em "Fuck the money", and I tell 'em "Fuck the fame" (The fame) Stayin' on the low, bitch, they stayin' on my case (Case) Every day, I wake up, put a mask upon my face Killer on a killing spree, killer on a killing spree East side, west side, bitch, you better not fuck with me Killer on a killing spree, killer on a killing spree Let that choppa fly, bitch, leave them dead they on the street Killer on a killing spree, killer on a killing spree Let that choppa fly, bitch, leave them dead on the street Killer on a killing spree, killer on a killing spree Let that choppa fly, bitch, leave them dead on the street Killer on a killing spree, killer on a killing spree Let that choppa fly, bitch, leave them dead on the street Killer on a killing spree, killer on a killing spree Let that choppa fly, bitch, leave them dead on the street Killer on a killing spree, killer on a killing spree Let that choppa fly, bitch, leave them dead on the street Killer on a killing spree, killer on a killing spree Let that choppa fly, bitch, leave them— From Letras Mania