Testin' My Gangsta

I comes from a city where they love to hate, especially on that Triple Six

They see we really got Bentley's and Benz's and they hate the shit

They try to come up over us, the radio even help em' at it

But yall ain't got no flows, so hang it up you silly rabbits

I'ma keep on hurting you boys, by making this motherfuckin' world rock

Side to fuckin' silence bitch for years and man we still ain't stop

Still ridin' clean, makin' cheese and carrying plastic glocks

And please don't try to test us cuz you know we'll let these bitches pop

On you hoes, you haters, you niggaz really like us

Cuz if you thank us, then you wouldn't try to sound so much like us

I'm the K-I-N-G of that M-P-H-M-S (Memphis)

H-C-P, to the E-N-D, others gone be less

Come prepared, man I swear they wanna be down with my team

Don't let the shit talkin' on them CD's fool you

That ain't what they really mean

The truth can hurt so bad so look in they faces when you play us

And watch how they look, and watch they jaw drop to the pavement

Nigga

Why yall Test My Gangsta

These bitches Test My Gangsta

Cuz it's on now

Nigga yeah it's on now

Nigga don't you know that Lord can make your life a living hell

And I mean that literally, the place where demon spirits dwell

Empty all the buck-shot shells, make your fucking body smell

I can fuck you up somewhere, to where you were they cannot tell

Fuck me with me, you fucking with the best

Nigga so all you fucking with the wrong one

I will hit you with the milli-milli gun, got a millimeter gun

Blow out ya lungs

Like them old I-Tal-Ians, Mafia, devil son

When you see me coming, better run for fucking cover bum

(BLITE!) AK, SK, .44, Tre-8

This body kinda heavy, D.O.A., air away

Bitch you better take notes, 'fo you end up cut-throat

And ya on the ground bro', with your fuckin' shirt soaked

Ini-Mini-Miny-Mo, blow a nigga out his clothes

Come out the trench-coat with a Sawed-Off, and lay me down a hoe

So if you think ScareCrow ain't a gangsta come and test the waters

You will be de-slaughtered, the dearly departed

Why you niggaz wanna test my gangsta?

Don't make a nigga run up and shank ya

Or put some cement in yo shit and sank ya

Or make you shoot yourself and then I'm thankin' ya

Throw tile over round your throat and drag ya cuz

Get nothing from me, but gangsta love

No testin' me my nigga, have you laying in blood

Or dig you a grave, cut ya bitch ass up

(Yeah Hoe!) You niggaz be trying to test, I ain't no slouch

I squeeze my fuckin' fist, my nig', I break the law

I call out a hit my nig', I make the fall

The handle with the bloody trig', is all they saw

'Fo yo ugly face was down, on the ground

A barrel pointed at your frown, with hollow rounds

I bet ya wanna run and shit, it's too late now

You shouldn't have been runnin' ya lip, to make me clown

Bitch!