On a Mission Lyrics - Fiend
You know you done fucked up?
You know you done fucked up, don't ya?
Nigga you really fucked up.
We on a muthafuckin mission.
I'm ridin dirty with my TRU muthafuckas.
Fiend, Steady Mobbin', C-Murder in this bitch.
Retaliation is a must.
Dumpin rounds on my muthafuckin adversaries.
Nigga, nigga ridin dirty for revenge
With my friends, I'm on a caper
Ready to kill 'em, if I see 'em
Fuck alarm, hold my paper
I'm a rider, so I leave 'em where I left 'em
When I creep, niggas sleep
And they ain't restin til they deep up in the concrete
Jungle with them slangers, with them bangers and them hustlers
With them killers, smokin woo and makin deals with my TRU niggas
Fiend had some yay, so we flipped it on the block
Steady Mobbin' flew from Cali so we put 'em up on the spot
Servin dub sacks and flippers, fifty shots and quarter bags
Raisin riches no matter week, servin keys out paper bags
And hustlin hard, countin money by the sack
Watch my back, niggas jack
Sweet revenge, counter attack up in my 'lac
Sippin Hennesy and chronic, I'm the tweak for some magic
Rollin the window, nigga, it's him so pistol playin bout to have it
Fuckin bullets gots no name nigga you name is on this one
Ridin dirty with my TRU bitches so nigga on a mission
[Chorus:] (Lines echo in background) X 4
In on a mission, ridin dirty with my TRU thugs
Retaliation, dumpin rounds, with no love
Fiend, my reason to gunplay
Loadin my chopper right up the one way
Wishin we facin a dead end
So I could show how this gun spray
Just one damn word, that's all I desire
So I could bend these niggas back like chicken wire
Spittin fire, mobbin, s'on when them bullets get to pourin
(..?..) get my adrenalin goin
I ain't ignorin, no problems, no worries baby
I severed the crusher, and buried my (..?..)
Over the dresser, Fiend the trigga my lesser
Gon test ya, with a season to kill
And catch me celebratin across the battlefield
Loco, this is the deal, let's put the gun
To the small of his neck, we got caught up and blast
Until there's nothing left, boy
I thought some more niggas kept, what? what?
Cause I ain't facin prison
Exercising my right to exorcism
Completed my mission, huh?
By lettin the land just listen
Cause they the reason my lil homie ain't livin
So, we on a mission
Chorus X 4
[Steady Mobbin' 1]
(..?..) the cleaner, alias Saddam, nigga
(What's up there?) Cold cop killers
Now it's really on (What's up fool?)
Being crooked, we do it dirty, (We doing it!)
C-Murder and Fiend (There they go!)
We dump the fifty round magazine
Locin and mobbin, til it's clean (Make sure it's clean)
Hooked up with the colonel, and the billy, cause I need cream
Fifteen five, made twenty five, six hummer size (Nigga!)
Muthafuckas died, (Nigga!) all in one night (They die!)
[Steady Mobbin' 2] (A lot of these lines are overlapped by screams,
gunshots, etc. Hard to understand...)
Pulled the trigga on my nigga (Not my nigga, damn!)
As the forty caliber shell, blew up in the neck
Twice in the head, he was dead 'fore his body hit the ground
(Damn dog, don't go nigga!)
Bitches scream, nigga (..?..)
Pull up next to the bodies, I was runnin
My dog's head was blew off
I'm bustin hella (?) (BUCK, BUCK, BUCK)
Hit the driver's side window, as they crash into a pole
(..?..), with a few left in the clip
Some for the driver, the passenger
And the rest of the trigger men
Writer: DE VIT, MIJK/HARRIS, JOHN DEAN/BEATCOUNTER, -
Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Ultra Tunes, Universal Music Publishing Group, Royalty Network, EMI Music Publishing
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