Chorus:

Cookin' up yae in the pure form of a rock

This is how we clock, stroll up on my block

3 in the morning po-po at my door

I'm wonderin' if really po-po at my door

This is kill street blues

(Alternate 3 & 4)repeat 4X



Verse 1:

Sit your 5 dollar ass down 

Nigga 'fore a chief baller make change

Cookin' up yae-yo at 3 in the mornin' 

Choppin' up game sackin' up caine

Fetty was layin' all over the floor

I guess you cold say that I was slippin'

As the door kick in

I stick in my clip and begin the dippin'

Up on these so called po-po

But I know it can't be nuthin' but some niggas

Runnin' up in ski masks

So I continue to curse and blast that asses out

Tryin' to gaffle the scratch my gat consumes

Just then my killa partner steps outta the bathroom

Uzi's and Mack thangs start lettin' off

Niggas catchin' slugs to the face

Baking soda some niggas brains cocaine all over the place 

Took a dive behind the coach 

Heard a nigga say "We gonn' kill you"

My 2 twin gats start talkin' to me said "Fuck them niggas I feel you"

So I bail up outta the cut

Tryin' ta take lives with no remorse 

Lookin' like a scene with Laurence Fishborne in "The King of New York"

Now it's 3 o'clock in the morning

And I still don't snooze

'Cause through my life niggas be given me all these kill street blues



Chorus:



Verse 2:

1 nigga died high 

Face down in uncut yae

I stuck my finger up in the hole in his body, told him have a nice day

My homie said "the real feds is comin'"

Said he was hit

I pull the bloody corpse off his body, he told me get the shit

Ran to the kitchen

Hopin' over the deceased

Gotta get the rocks money and powder, and evade the police

Put the fetty up in my hand

Gotta be quick, gotta be nimble

Look to my left seen 3 federalles' cars in the window

Now it's time for me and my homie

To mob the fuck on out

As we mob up outta there 3 federalles mob in the house 

Can't say nuthin' about them other niggas 

Them haters is out there dead

Couple a slugs up in they head, with a house full of feds

And ain't no time to be stickin' around 

I'm hearin' them ambulances and homocides

I'm ready to bail outta the scene and flee up in this "G" ride

I'm thinkin' my homie heart stopped nigga dyin' on me

Partner dropped down to the ground 

That's when them po-po started firing on me



Chorus:



Threw the caine down got to mobbin' off

As the po-po yelled out freeze (freeze)

Lost a down ass homie and the yae-yo man

But fuck it I'ma keep the cheese (cheese)

My partners eyes wide open 

Nigga layin' there one breath too short (short)

But each time ya nigga Spice 1 hit the corner

In a big white cloud of smoke (smoke)

Federalles on my bumper baby

Fittin' ta show 'em I ain't no punk (punk)

Use the right hand to do the drivin' thang

And the left hand ready to dump (dump)

Led 'em on a high speed chase 

For about 30 minutes or a little bit more

Got a triple thang murder up under my belt 

'Bout 60 thousand ta doe (doe)

Ohhh nooo

Heard a slg hit my back tire

Then I spun around

Runnin' into the side while tearin' all shit down

Bitches was screamin' niggas was cussin'

Po-Po bustin' at me (punk ass nigga)

Run into the liquor store 

Knowin' they'll never catch me

But soon as I'm thinkin' of makin' my getaway 

Ain't this a bitch

Some fedy with a 12 gauge 

Put the barrel fight up to my shit (stay right there nigger)

Pull out the money and all of a sudden I hit the floor

Looked up and see the barrel of Sgt. Kickass' 4-4



Chorus: 2X