Lyrics Souls of Mischief

Souls of Mischief

Secret Service

Niggas trippin' smokin' all this weed and shit man

You know when it jump we gon' need our mind and bodies ready boy

(Nigga, nigga, ain't nothin' jumpin man)

Foooool, I got my Glock nigga my Calico

Boy even a little deuce-deuce

(Nigga, what that mean to po-po?)

Fool, rocket launchers, fool po-po they some zarks

They ain't runnin' up on the turf nigga

(Nigga they got planes, nigga tanks, nigga bombs)

Ah fuck them fools nigga

(Wipe out yo' whole hood)

But I'd take care of all them fools nigga

I got down motherfuckers here nigga

(Man, nigga, ain't nobody mo' down they deep nigga)

(You think you deeper than them? They deep nigga!)

Ah nigga

(They got everythang!)

What, oh shit, wait what the fuck is that?

Yeah, I clean my weapon fo' times a day

I'm with the devil-est, yes the world's mine to slay

I sipped wine with Jay-Hoover

I can make you a murder victim

Say some nigga dope server licked him (I didn't do it)

A third of income that I get is enough

To never sweat and I forget them dirty niggas I snuffed

Yeah you figure your tough, them coons be livin' trife

With they civil rights, I got yo' midas in my pistol sights

You try to loot and think you post hard

I got the Coast Guard, get ghost 'cause folks scarre'

With my flame-thrower you're lame Yoda, slaveholder

Got a brain fo' ya, leave a poseur, slave told ya

Totin glocks with laser scopes

Watch the slayer folks watch for my cops (with major doe)

Forget your vest, 'cause I'm bustin' your chest

Gettin' checks and medals sayin' Agent Plus is the best

Yeah, I do bribes, some people front and say no

They can play though, not like them Czechs in Sarajevo

I got a family but I'm still that mean

I gotta feel that green

Agent Massey, how'd you kill that King?

I did it slickly, put a knife in his kidney

And sent him to bliss made it look like some terrorists

The heir to his throne, eight years old

I left his back blown up, for that I get the FAT bonus

So the Cadillac's on once I get back home

But there's the mobile plus the fax with my target profile

Yo, I blow up a church if I gotta

Orders from the top it don't stop til I gotcha, yeah

And when I do best to believe ya through

'Cause we do not take prisoners in the good old you S of A

Too much red tape to Mas-sey

Plus the press say what they want to now-a-days

I'm gettin' medals, for smart-bombin' ghettos

Seven figure payroll, give you wings and a halo

We run things, so lay low, keepin' paid

Those attempts to uprise we blow ya spot sky high

And bury ya 'cause the lessa, you're the merrier

Comin' soon a new shoppin' mall if you don't bear

With the program cold and callous, no man

Women, or child is safe (why?) 'cause we the wildest

They got the FBI, CIA,

ATF, DEA, big guns for pay

Yeah, plus them armed forces man them fools don't play

And the coppers that you see everyday