DREAMIN - Slight

Ah, ah!

I’m sittin' in the crib dreamin' about Learjets and coupes

The way Salt shoops and how they sell records like Snoop — (oops!)

I’m interrupted by a doorbell, 3:52 — Who the hell is this?

I gets up quick, cocks my shit

Stop the dogs from barkin', then proceed to walk in

It’s a face that I seen before

My nigga Sing, we used to sling on the 16th floor

Check it!

I look deeper;

I see blood up on his sneakers

And his fist gripped a chrome four-fifth

So I dip, nigga!

Is you creepin' or speakin'?

He tells me C-Rock just got hit up at the Beacon

I opens up the door, pitiful: «Is he in critical?»

Retaliation for this one won’t be minimal

Cause I’m a criminal way before the rap shit

Bust the gat shit;

Puff won’t even know what happened

If it’s done smoothly, silencers on the Uzi

Stash in the hooptie, my alibi: any cutie

With a booty that done fuck Big Pop

Head spinnin', reminiscin' 'bout my man C-Rock

Somebody gotta die

If I go, you got to go

Somebody gotta die

Let the gunshots blow

Somebody gotta die

Nobody got to know

That I killed yo ass in the midst, kid

Somebody gotta die

If I go, you got to go

Somebody gotta die

Let the gunshots blow

Somebody gotta die

Nobody got to know

That I killed yo ass in the midst, kid

Fillin' clips, he explained our situation

Precisely, so we know exactly what we facin'

«Some kid named Jason, in a Honda station wagon

Was braggin', about how much loot and crack he stackin'

Rock had a grip so they formed up a clique

A small crew 'round the time I was locked up with you»

«True indeed»

«But yo nigga, let me proceed

Don’t fill them clips too high, give them bullets room to breathe

Damn, it was our year

Went outta town, blew the fuck up

D-Roc went home and Jay got stuck the fuck up

Hit him twice, caught him right for the Persian white

Pistol whipped his kids and taped up his wife (Niggas is trife)

He figured Roc set 'em up, no question

Wet em up no less than 50 shots in his direction»

«How many shots?»

«Man nigga, I seen mad holes»

«What kinda gats?»

«Hecklers, Kochs, and Calicos

But fuck that, I know where all them niggas rest at

In the buildin' hustlin' and they don’t be strapped

Supreme in black is downstairs, the engine runnin'

Find a bag to put the guns in, and c’mon if you’re comin'

Somebody gotta die

If I go, you got to go

Somebody gotta die

Let the gunshots blow

Somebody gotta die

Nobody got to know

That I killed yo ass in the midst, kid

Somebody gotta die

If I go, you got to go

Somebody gotta die

Let the gunshots blow

Somebody gotta die

Nobody got to know

That I killed yo ass in the midst, kid