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The Slayers Club
by
Fredro Starr
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Yeah, when the devil come boy The devil devil gon' come come smiling Yo, what the f**k these n***as talking about, man? Yo R.A., love you brother, yeah Same script, who come up outta the fold for ya? Liveness, still outta control for ya We home team, we gon' roll for ya Marksmen, put 'em in a hole for ya Yeah, yeah, put 'em in a hole for ya Yeah, yeah, creep up on 'em slow for ya Long range, boom! Let it go for ya M.O.P., we put 'em in a hole for ya This official pistol gang, Philly where we bang at Pull up in the Bugatti and hit 'em where they hang at There was no consideration where them bullets rang at You was gettin' popped if you was hangin' where they slang at Rugged Man is always wildin' out, boy trippin' That's what you get for thinkin' you live like an audition Bullets coming out of the blue like they called Griffin Fuel injector, funeral director, the mortician
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