Communications

Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo

Just got off the jack with my son thats up north

Tellin me he's comin home, and how he's gettin off

'cuz his game was weak, killed two months, he's back in the streets

With new plans, to expand, to jerk his mans man

We had the ultimate stick up, drop, on the brick pick up

But yo he can't, 'cuz he's still locked up

Jump back on the horn 'cuz his vibe was strong

Contacted the kid and told him lets be gone

I talked to poet first, yo son, I got a mish-shon

Grab the ammunnish-shon, pump up your pythons

I know a spot where niggas gettin it, and we can flip on

Son they frustrate me, 'cuz these niggas pump with no heat

They play the night time sweet, like they can't get beat

I got their address, to where they rest and stash their shit

Yo, I peeped it out how we can creep, yo yo yo

These niggas stay sleep

Makin sales, smokin out, and they all get ? geeked?

Lets catch 'em zoning, brain under, high and headed home and

When they least expect it, lets put the gat to his dome

He stuck the key in the door, we ? ? ? four four

We pushed our way in, we wasnt playin

Ready to spray 'em, tied him down to the a.m.

Now we layin, for a beamer, and some bitch named fatima