Kool G Rap

Kool G Rap - Foul Cats lyrics

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Foul cats scheamin up the setup
 Tryin to leave me and my cream wet up
 Two in the head  leaded up
 Call the coroners to make they bed up
 Infrared shit from neck up
 Before they got to lit the tec up

 [Kool G Rap]
 It was a setup  my nigga got hit  they blew his chest up
 The hollow tips ripped his vest up  son is messed up
 and blessed up; call my cast up    it's time to dress up
 Four-fifth and Smith-n-Wessed up, ready to press up
 and fuck their nest up, the enemy is Hennessey to sessed up
 Actin up, hit my motherfuckin man up
 Never again will he stand up, yo Big Jan hook the plan up
 Pull the masks, pull the van up
 These niggaz tryin to hit the fam up; these small times cats
 Yo fuck that, I can't see that, where them niggaz be at?
 Where they hang at? Where they live at? Where they slang at?
 (Aiyyo Son one is a known cat, he walk around with the chrome gat
 This hoodrat know where the nigga home at)
 Well here's a quarter baby, go and phone that
 This motherfucker bout to get his shit blown back
 His whole dome clapped, we cock back the gats and started cruisin
 Up the boulevards and avenues-n, I'm short fusin
 and two biscuit usin; mad hot but, not in the mood for losin
 We hit the strip pickin up clues and
 we on the heels of this nigga shoes and
 out the blue when, we see the chick the nigga screwin
 Pushin his whip with the ice cuban
 Hemmed her up sweet, put heat to her wig piece, the zig piece
 to this nig's beefs, this bitch named Charise
 from East New York, listen bitch, you better talk
 Or get your whole frame surrounded, with white chalk
 Pulled the rat in back of the van, bitch we don't want you
 we want your man, you understand?
 The hoe said, "Please, I got his house keys, the nigga got
 five keys and mad cheese, a hundred G's"
 Lie to me bitch you gettin one of these
 Four-five C's in both knees, she said, "Honestly I promise G
 I'm not lying," then the hoe started crying
 We hit the road me and my niggaz flying
 to the crib in Jackson Heights, the nigga live three flights up
 He type buck, but I ain't givin a fuck
 Grab his bitch up, make the hoe go first in case
 the nigga buck, open the door up, and put the stunt in front
 Then we all started creepin, he stretched out
 up on the sofa sleepin, yeah me and my cats standin there
 just peepin, money's about to get laced
 My nigga Ty threw a glass of whiskey in his face
 Big Jan ready to blaze the place; he on his way
 to Amazing Grace -- nigga woke up and saw the big guns
 Me and my two sons, he knew he was done
 You hurt a loved one, step back about to let him have one
 Yo fuck that, aiyyo black, where the sack of heroin at?
 I'm bout to give cat some motherfuckin railroad tracks
 We dumped the whole bag inside a spoon and left the room
 to heat that, and came right back, yo grab the nigga arm black
 Put raw shit in the nigga vein, watch the needle drain
 Went from being restrained to mad 'tane
 Less than a moment nigga started zonin
 His mouth foamin, lookin like he posessed by The Omen
 His bitch was reachin for the phone and, I had to smack her
 with the chrome and, left her on the floor moanin
 Cocked back, I had to finish this, know my stee'
 we leave no witnesses, shot and got the fuck out the premises

 Outro
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Copyrights:

Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: Illstreet / Downlow

Details:

Released in: 1998

Language: English

Appearing on: Roots of Evil (1998)

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