R.I.P.

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Jamie Madrox] Product of the ghetto Three Jokers like Romero, Nicholson and Leto Real kind, yea we blast on the instrumental Smiling teeth behind bandannas and influential And I'm mental at the same time make it special Rhyme my rhymes like bullet holes fuck the pen and pencil Make casualty out of foes, body make a stencil For the sidewalk chalk, They said he had potential But he dead now, that's the story of the competition The bitches don't exist in the mix of any music I listen It's like divine intervention But can you separate the trill from the ill that's the question G's up, fuck hoes always been the same since forever in a day Ain't a damn thing changed and the motherfuckin' music gon' play (Three fingers in the air) Give a fuck what they say [Chorus] Thugs, Felons, Hoods, G's Stay the day loaded and we'll make you rep the beat Anybody want some? Killas, rough necks Even baby G better show the three some respect Anybody steppin' better lay down If you feelin' some kind of way now We'll leave everybody dead, oh RIP just like the motherfuckin' soul said [Verse 2: Monoxide] Light the end of the weed up and let the trunk pop Turn your front lawn into a hood store parking lot I got the beat bangin' like blue jeans Hotter than the buffalo sauce without the Blue Cheese I said I ain't fly no more I got the new wings I got 'em all watchin' how we do things, changing up the routines Aw, you ain't fuckin' with the new team I don't give a fuck how you doing I just want to find out where you stand, start shooting, fuck arguing I got no time for it, I'd rather get my dick sucked And just ignore it I get for it 'Cause your writing a check and your mouth get paid for it I'll bitch slap your lips back, snap quick like Kit Kat's You're on my galaxy like I was Chris Pratt I wanna fuck, where your bitch at Better put a leash on it or we're gon' have a mishap [Chorus] Thugs, Felons, Hoods, G's Stay the day loaded and we'll make you rep the beat Anybody want some? Killas, rough necks Even baby G better show the three some respect Anybody steppin' better lay down If you feelin' some kind of way now We'll leave everybody dead, oh RIP just like the motherfuckin' soul said [Verse 3: Blaze Ya Dead Homie] Put your eyes forward, triple threat, get it lit Man every set, where they at, fuck the bitches actin' hostile Bible ain't no rival in the team Put your three fingers up if you fuckin' with me East side, I still claim, ain't a tight ass Somebody turned up dead in the basement - nothin' changed Think we in the same lane highly confused Four second story tellin' got me mildly amused But like every politician you're abusing your power Time to hit the pot, or better yet, hit the showers You's some cowards, what you'd thought I'd stay back – never that The credits on the block bringin' sevens on the track You bitches still like the debt, thought you accept Representin' what I think somebody always get the grip Rest in Peace with your edits Who discredit the fam Triple threat is back and we ain't even going ham [Chorus] Thugs, Felons, Hoods, G's Stay the day loaded and we'll make you rep the beat Anybody want some? Killas, rough necks Even baby G better show the three some respect Anybody steppin' better lay down If you feelin' some kind of way now We'll leave everybody dead, oh RIP just like the motherfuckin' soul said