Fiend On a Mission Lyrics

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[c-murder talking]
You know you done ****ed up?
You know you done ****ed up, don't ya?
***** you really ****ed up.
We on a mutha****in mission.
I'm ridin dirty with my tru mutha****as.
Fiend, steady mobbin', see-murder in this *****.
Retaliation is a must.
Dumpin rounds on my mutha****in adversaries.

*****, ***** ridin dirty for revenge
With my friends, I'm on a caper
Ready to kill 'em, if I see 'em
**** alarm, hold my paper
I'm a rider, so I leave 'em where I left 'em
When I creep, *****s 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 *****s
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, *****s jack
Sweet revenge, counter attack up in my 'lac
Sippin hennesy and chronic, I'm the tweak for some magic
Rollin the window, *****, it's him so pistol playin bout to have it
****in bullets gots no name ***** you name is on this one
Ridin dirty with my tru *****es so ***** 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 *****s 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 *****s 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, *****
(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!)
See-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 (*****!)
Mutha****as died, (*****!) 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 ***** (not my *****, 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 *****!)
*****es scream, ***** (..? ..)
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

Written by: Nicolia Barrow, Gary Burns, Jagjit Kooner, Richard Thair, Dean Thatcher
Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Ultra Tunes, Universal Music Publishing Group

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