Don't Make Me Kill

[Chorus: DJ Paul] What you boys gon' do? What you boys gon' do? What you boys gon' do? What you boys gon' do? What you boys gon' do? What you boys gon' do? [Verse 1: Lord Infamous] I keep seeing images man it's like I'm locked in a simulator Apocalypse slayer, I'm the street nigga terminator Is it in my nature to be another life taker? Then I ask 'em why home invader? Strapped with the auto and razor These days madness, raising havoc, witness savage Blazing automatics in the midst of highway traffic Very graphic I rob and kick a burglary kidnapping They think it's just 'bout rapping But sometimes we get to capping Niggas snapping You motherfucking bitches make me bored Let's go to war If you think the world is really fucking yours If we must fill the morgue Then we will fill the morgue If we must kill these boys Then we will kill these boys Let's destroy all who cross the path A hypnotize blood bath Try to reach and grab You will feel the aftermath I'm the trial, I'm the DA, I'm the lawyer and the judge If you wanna feel the slugs Then I let you feel the slugs [Chorus: Juicy J & DJ Paul, Project Pat] Don't make me kill, don't make me kill somebody Don't make me kill, don't make me kill somebody If your ass step, I'ma be downtown, mane Don't make me kill, don't make me kill somebody Don't make me kill, don't make me kill somebody Niggas passin' plates, snortin' line after line, mane Don't make me kill, don't make me kill somebody What you boys gon' do? What you boys gon' do? What you boys gon' do? If your ass step, I'ma be downtown, mane What you boys gon' do? What you boys gon' do? What you boys gon' do? Enemies gonna bleed, once I let these bullets fly mane [Verse 2: Scan Man] Aw shit nigga you done pissed me off Now nigga now it's time for a killing Buck buck shots blasting Who I be Scan fucking Man From the Killa Klan Got my thugs from the south Heavily armed and caused out Better bring it When you bring it Cause if you don't that means you fucked Cause those killers from the world Won't hesitate to pop those slugs Have yo mammies and yo pappys And yo motherfucking grammies Fuck yo poppa was because You too damn greedy with that money Now I told you don't test And you did something, pity You wasn't shit Blaze something about your motherfucking prints The patience of this game You best to learn Trying to have it all You gon' fall We gon' make sure of that Hoe we gon' make sure of that Decipher or stress that Me blasting with my tech You test I'll flex I'll bring the sawed Three buck shots in your vest I'm making motherfuckers feel what I feel This shit is real Motherfuckers who miss Consider them graves Don't make me murder you bitch [Chorus: Juicy J & DJ Paul, Project Pat] Don't make me kill, don't make me kill somebody Don't make me kill, don't make me kill somebody If your ass step, I'ma be downtown, mane Don't make me kill, don't make me kill somebody Don't make me kill, don't make me kill somebody Niggas passin' plates, snortin' line after line, mane Don't make me kill, don't make me kill somebody What you boys gon' do? What you boys gon' do? What you boys gon' do? If your ass step, I'ma be downtown, mane What you boys gon' do? What you boys gon' do? What you boys gon' do? Niggas passin' plates, snortin' line after line, mane [Verse 3: MC Mack] Get your dogs off me, pimping It ain't no slipping I'm running 'em on ya MC Mack from the Killa Klan click Got haters sick Like they had pneumonia Free me from this three way junction Before I proceeding to take his life And though I had them tear da any thugs from the southside Ready to blast on site Weapons blasting nice and fasting Got you dashing Spray this boy Calling up my band of Hollywood niggas Whatever they ready for war Let's let's make a stain A stain on the lane Youngin done hipped me to the game Bitches choosing out the frame Is it the fame or is the the cheese? Hoes be trying to smoke on my weed And know that Mac done broke the laws Or pay the dues for the things you see Bitch please break your knees Get off my chrome and get your own Carla hit me on my horn And said your momma ain't at home It's a hypnotize, kamikaze Prophet Posse, like the nazis You ain't with the camp Wack producers trying to fucking copy Stop stealing buster nigga Bitch go check the sound scan We cashing checks and flipping that These haters will never learn Don't make me kill nigga [Chorus]