Luyện nghe bài hát It's On, On Sight

(*Screeching tires, gunshots, broken glass, and screaming*)
(3x)

They want problems; soon them want me waxed, on my ass
It's from the pen, they say I owe 'em cash
Dwellin off the and they need it fast
But they fai'lize is I'll be quick to blast
Die hard cold blooded killer all my work
up like a female in a mini-skirt
Specialize in doin dirt - niggaz in the shirt
Put the in his mouth and make it hurt, ooh
Cutlass, guzzlin down a 40-ounce bottle of Swiss malt liquor
talkin to a standin outside the movie theater
sittin on top of the hood of my
Smokin on a non-filter pink pack colored cigarette
Clove-family affiliated cancer stick lookin beadie
What the fuck? W here's the treaty?
of my Wheaties, yes indeedy, M-16's don't shoot no beebees
Programmed to amputate anything that off in my way
Then I put them size left over bullets up in my A.K.
I can't wait we bump heads

It on, on day and night no matter what I'm dumpin'
I'm tryin to see you niggas somethin' (2x)

"I'm heated, them cheated" - 3X (in background)
We had a meetin', shit to been squashed (3x)

Shit was to been squashed

I've got a hunch; meet me at the Olive spot let's do lunch
Fool and dem to pass the buck and set us up for lumps
of bitches must think we some chumps
Time to break out the pipe and the pumps

Nigga fuck stress and pull lick, we kick in the door with full
Out of Magnums packin when we blast 'em we all out for the
FOol, 40-Water never slip, saw the quick and then dipped
Before we spark the pipe bombs, and blow them niggaz to
side-ways up off they block, gears in a big block
All out non stop riders until our casket
We smashin, blastin on any, while I many
Dash and double two-three's, fuck the enemies

One of my big up out HPA shot me a kite today
He up in Bay three striker
Doin 25 with a L cause he tell on one of his
high-ranked dudes in who wears a diaper
With the shit stacked on the of his waist
blood all on the windshield wiper
Somebody to take his face - caught him up in his Viper
as a goose ass out tried to down him like a sniper
hyperventilated havin' seizures
No feelings in his legs, arms, or his

We stand tall, like Manute Bol with bigger balls RuPaul
Strapped 4-4's down to execute all y'all
Don't want to see us niggas on a
150 round drum 45 slugs
No remorse hit by the hardcore fo'
Leave him stuck in his front
70 rounds his front window
Ain't no with G's
Fill 'em up to they neck they knees
Leave 'em dyin' in the as we escape on they goldeeze