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作词 : Sylvester James/Ex Cons
作曲 : Peter Phillips
Listen to this, just listen to this, just listen to this…
[Verse 1: Freddie Brown & Lord V.I.]
The exclusive one, housin’ n#gg#s in the dirt
No wrong move and nobody get hurt
Feel the flames and the heat of the Ex Con mob
I got the heat, ain’t nothin’ sweet, I’m about to do the job
And what’s that?, pussy cat back {?}
Who tried to act, who tried to wet me from the back, I ain’t havin’ that
I settle straight and smoke a blunt to the dome
Just the chrome on my own, I’ma call V.I. on the phone
We through ya, we full flip wicked shots to the brain
I got the chronic, all the piecеs, we can sip some champagne
I hung up thе phone and I took a deep breath
I laid another man to rest ’cause he was marked for death
You can get bucked any day of the week
Try to fight back black, you get deaded
You can get bucked any day of the week
Try to fight back black, you get deaded
Who am I? The king of New York, don’t talk
Mr. Frank White here, son tonight’s the night
I got the double insight of my infrared beam
You can’t get a fair one son ’cause we a team
So it seems that you don’t want no parts of this
Marked for death, now let me give you the death kiss, case dismissed
Don’t you know you dealin’ with the best?
Blow you out the frame, leave your mom duke stress
Guess the specialist like Sylvester Stallone
No matter where you run or hide, you won’t be alone
I’m behind you and unlike a snake, I won’t rattle
I have your answer freed of your own damn shadow
You paranoid like {?}, can’t you see?
MC’s like you can never front no brothers like me
So say the war stories and take your last breath
‘Cause in the ’96, man catches marked for death
You can get bucked any day of the week
Try to fight back black, you get deaded
You can get bucked any day of the week
Try to fight back black, you get deaded
Peep the sketch, n#gg#s is marked like a target
I’m like a sniper, puttin’ holes in your nugget
Figure that one out, it’s just every time
I side black clothes, black hood, perfect alibi
Say two to your temple when caught me in the mornin’
I’m not Big Papa but yo I’m givin’ you a warnin’
Where’s your bitch at when shit hits the fan?
You snitch like a file outta trick, offer the gram for the cheddar
Word is bond, kids they do whatever
Stick’ ’em for a gold watch and bless ’em for his leather
Whoever wanna get sheisty and shameless
I put my boot up your #ss kid, I make you famous
Murderville, either kill or be killed
Player, protect ya neck or ya blood’ll be spilt
May I address the ballers and the hustlers doin’ stings
All our Ex Cons wearin’ {?} diamond rings
Get that cream son, don’t let ’em sabotage your dreams
Player haters in my way get clapped, you knah mean
Represent the E-X, C-O-N-S
Marked for death, better cherish your last breath
You can get bucked any day of the week
Try to fight back black, you get deaded
You can get bucked any day of the week
Try to fight back black, you get deaded
You can get bucked any day of the week
Try to fight back black, you get deaded
You can get bucked any day of the week
Try to fight back black, you get deaded
Try to fight back black, you get deaded
You can get bucked any day of the week…
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