World Come 2 An End (feat. Chris Ward, Godfather)

[Godfather:]

When the guns clack-clack, it ain't love Fat Pat

Where them boys from the ghetto, put the South on the map

'Fore my world come to an end, I go and cop me a Benz

600, got around and get blunted

All my past enemies, they gon get hunted

Make love to my woman, she get it how she want it

Take my kids to Disney World, like I won the Superbowl

Plus I beat my court case, because a lupole

Exotic labels, always keep the fruit roll

My bulletproof block shots, like Manu Fold

You can't hit me, be in Houston like I'm Whitney

Say you like Brittany, put a knife in your kidney

Godfather run game, like the Globetrotters

I should run for President, like I'm Jimmy Carter

Over the waters, coke smuggle through the harbors

In the states we transport it, through somebody's daughter

[Hook x2:]

Before my world comes to an end, I'm going out with my men

Screwed Up Click, setting a trend

In the Lex or the Benz, steady spending the ends

Getting up with yellow bones, have 'em calling they friends

[Chris Ward:]

Before my world ends, I wanna push a pearl Benz

On 20 inch Lorenz, that spin like whirlwinds

Hugging my girlfriend, that's black and plastic

And she doesn't mind, putting these haters in caskets

Put a cheddar to cheese, and velveeta I mash quick

I came in this game, first round draft pick

Taking your bitches, making my riches

Bring snitch frostbit, so you can skate on my wrists

Pretty hoes see me pull up, in 4.6's

And that's when they get mad, wishing it was two Chris's

On tracks I'm vicious, untamed and malicious

In they face, blowing up like air bags and bubble-licious

Serving you flows, like Papa Deauxxx main dishes

Getting bonds by the tons, while the dope game switches

I make it senseless, to end up dead or in the FED

When I can spit lyrical heroin, and make bread

[Hook x2]

[H.A.W.K.:]

You bitches pathetic, you niggaz polished synthetic

Cake mix and flour, make up your genetics

Call the paramedics, shit's about to get hectic

Fin to light up your spot, like General Electric

Dead End Texas, the mess with pitch bird

I done flooded the Suburb', with fifty featherless birds

My game blast superb, Gucci shoes and Iceberg

Since it's all about the End, I have the urge to splurge

It's lunch time, you on the bench at crunch time

And one rhyme, can hit you on the punch line

My bullets defy gravity, bust through your chest cavity

With pen point actually, I restructure your anamity

More vultures than I bury, I can cause a catastrophe

Arenas filled to capacity, and you have the adasody

How can your next to kin, be hard to apprehend

Turning corners in the Benz, my world has come to an end

[Hook x4]

[talking:]

Yo, before we leave this world playboy

We gon live it up you dig, me and Big H.A.W.K.

Under Hawk's Wings, In God's Hands Records

Godfather forever you dig, 2000 shit you know I mean

H-Town put it down, Dirty South put it in ya mouth

Y'all niggaz don't want no war, we them ill niggaz