Wicked Sick Productions
[Intro: Lil Jack]
Bullet with yo face on it, see me kill for fun
Run nigga run, redruM, redruM
Picture-Picture closed casket, we go Taliban
And my Tommy Gun drum goes ram-pam-pam-pam-pam
Bullet with yo face on it, see me kill for fun
Run nigga run, redruM, redruM
Picture-Picture closed casket, we go Taliban
And my Tommy Gun drum goes ram-pam-pam-pam-pam
[Verse 1: Lil Jack]
Lord knows man I hate y'all niggas, blow yo face off nigga, where they make y'all niggas?
I'm the type of killer that'll hide in ya house, put that iron in yo mouth, I wanna waste y'all niggas
I got a pistol grip and I'ma pistol whip a pussy wimp - little pussy bitch
They think I lost my mind, they say I'm Wicked Sick
They yellin' 9-1-1, I'm yellin' 6-6-6
Drink that virgin blood where they bond a bitch
I'm on that drama shit then get yo mom a fifth
Niggas walking dead, off with they head
Somebody help me - I'm 'bout to click!
I put a bullet to yo motherfuckin' face, hoe
Where they leave a nigga with no face, hoes
Call me J-A-lower k, blow the place
K got a pillow case for yo face, hoe
Seein' bodies wrapped around trees
Walking through blood up to my knees, please
My homeboy still got that human skull, a couple hostages and some fire ass weed
About to be a killing spree, free Charles Manson and R.I.P
To all my enemies that plan on killin' me
Don't let me run up in yo crib and leave you all deceased
But y'all common thieves that don't believe it, please
Chalk line, blood all over the street
Police cover up the body with sheets
Break out the shovel - six feet deep
Coroners', pallbearers', choppers' tall as basketball players
Call the Reaper, grab the sickle AKA Jack the Ripper
Slap the shit outta one o' you rappin' niggas
[Intro: Lil Jack]
Bullet with yo face on it, see me kill for fun
Run nigga run, redruM, redruM
Picture-Picture closed casket, we go Taliban
And my Tommy Gun drum goes ram-pam-pam-pam-pam
Bullet with yo face on it, see me kill for fun
Run nigga run, redruM, redruM
Picture-Picture closed casket, we go Taliban
And my Tommy Gun drum goes ram-pam-pam-pam-pam
[Verse 1: Lil Jack]
Lord knows man I hate y'all niggas, blow yo face off nigga, where they make y'all niggas?
I'm the type of killer that'll hide in ya house, put that iron in yo mouth, I wanna waste y'all niggas
I got a pistol grip and I'ma pistol whip a pussy wimp - little pussy bitch
They think I lost my mind, they say I'm Wicked Sick
They yellin' 9-1-1, I'm yellin' 6-6-6
Drink that virgin blood where they bond a bitch
I'm on that drama shit then get yo mom a fifth
Niggas walking dead, off with they head
Somebody help me - I'm 'bout to click!
I put a bullet to yo motherfuckin' face, hoe
Where they leave a nigga with no face, hoes
Call me J-A-lower k, blow the place
K got a pillow case for yo face, hoe
Seein' bodies wrapped around trees
Walking through blood up to my knees, please
My homeboy still got that human skull, a couple hostages and some fire ass weed
About to be a killing spree, free Charles Manson and R.I.P
To all my enemies that plan on killin' me
Don't let me run up in yo crib and leave you all deceased
But y'all common thieves that don't believe it, please
Chalk line, blood all over the street
Police cover up the body with sheets
Break out the shovel - six feet deep
Coroners', pallbearers', choppers' tall as basketball players
Call the Reaper, grab the sickle AKA Jack the Ripper
Slap the shit outta one o' you rappin' niggas
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