Wu-Blood Kin

[Chorus: Ghostface Killah]

Young Gods when you killed them guns you kill sons

Then get sent to the pen for murder one

I rather be rich, lay back and fuck a chick

Can't now son I'm being hit by a bullet

[Verse 1: La the Darkman]

The garden of redemption, half of my clan is fenced in

For being lynch men, never listen like Sonny Liston

On Riker's pissing 25 was no surprise

He shot 3 niggas left one paralyzed

With bloody palms, them niggas tried to rape his moms

Son shooting at their chest shells went through his charm

On Saint Nick call that Branson weed spot kid

Two niggas dead, history, like a pyramid

He ran with cleaves to an island off in Florida Keys

Bent out, dunn had a three-story penthouse

450 feet off South Beach

Young fakes made the news on the New York streets

Extraordinary he sent his men to see the nigga buried

Check the sum though, DT Joe Colombo

Got a tip Brent was out in Florida on the low

Pushing a Benz-O, six-O-O and more

He selling smoke out the store, po kicked in the door

Brent was in the back gambling

With 2 pounds of green on the table

My dunn escape route was unstable

Of course, he fucked up sniffing white horse

The German's hit his laboratory with the task force

Brent was too high reached up, cocked the four-five

First DT hit the back, caught a shell through his eye

He screamed the rest of his police team

Shot Brent to death like a '88 fiend

[Chorus: Ghostface Killah]

Young Gods when you killed them guns you kill sons

Then get sent to the pen for murder one

I rather be rich, lay back and fuck a chick

Can't now son I'm being hit by a bullet

[Verse 2: 12 O'Clock]

Nigga shut the fuck up and drown the keys in the pool

Keep your cool, feds knocking on the door soon

See, they heard about that cat you murdered in the pool room

You should've swarmed on 'em, stayed in late, luring doom on 'em

Jet skied on 'em then flew around corner on 'em

4 o'clock in the morning, I threw the ski mask on 'em

My little man's on the corner when I pulled it on 'em

357 snub-nosing on 'em

Some bitches that was bugging for him you know 'em

The bitches probably still be holding

Went to 25 years on 'em they growing

Now back to the shits with the twelve on it to be on it

12 O'Clock is on it Darkman on it

And niggas don't want it

[Chorus: Ghostface Killah]

Young Gods when you killed them guns you kill sons

Then get sent to the pen for murder one

I rather be rich, lay back and fuck a chick

Can't now son I'm being hit by a bullet