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    I want him dead.
    I don't care how you do it I don't care when you do it
    but I just want him dead.
    I don't care if you gotta bring him over here with his mother
    but I want him dead.
    I want his mother dead I want his father dead...
    I don't care I want his DOG dead...

    (Verse 1)
    Sonny pat me down sat me down said look at me now
    'Kirk no fucking around I want you to clap this clown
    If you fuck up then you fucked, best not to fuck
    Fuck you fucked then what? FUCK! You think you tough?'
    Chill! I need two's to bust, save the anger
    And all that hostility, stop grilling me, you killing me, feelin' me?
    Guess not...who you want dead? "Vinnie." How much bread?
    Shook his head fed and called his man Fred "Yo Fred!"
    Fred said, "FUCK you!" Oh fuck me? Lucky
    As long as none of you touch me everything'll be lovely
    Trust me, where the money at? Sonny tapped Fred, "This is a funny cat
    You're black, you get the money when you come back!"
    What's that? Whatchu say? Nah you didn't say that
    Laid back snatched the gat under my grey hat and said "stay back"
    Clack, I don't play that! Shot Fred in his top lip [Ahh!!]
    That's for popping shit, and shot Sonny is his dick [Ahhhh!!]
    Blew they brains then skipped in a Towncar brown car
    Vinnie said, "What? No scars? How'd it go down, par'?"
    "Like quicksand." "Damn, here's your thirty-six grand.
    Lemme shake your hand, shit man, you're my favorite hit man!"

    (Chorus)
    Yo we hitmen, charge thirty G's ahead
    You might see the ex-poor theivz and want to fled
    Instead, blend in with the crowd while we cockin' this
    But sudden moves will just make yourself obvious
    Gimmie a price that I like, sound good then I might
    Take the life of whoever knowing never could do it better
    Remember no kids and double for females
    Pass the bills, pictures, and details and I'll do the kill

    (Verse 2)
    Peep the sag, I was fronted two G's by the mob
    Two Z's and the Saab for this hitman job
    Burnt my hand for initiation, cats told me the situation
    Them niggas transporter was lacing
    Coke was missing they was shortin' it up
    He was supposed to be importin' it up, but he was snortin' it up
    So they sent me to his house in a '98 Blazer
    Under my toungue, razor, gun pager with the lazer
    Jumped out with all black on feeling no love
    With the untouched slugs, black mask with the gloves
    Ran up in his crib-o with the click-o and seen dick-o
    Headed for the door with two tickets to 'Fransisco
    Him and his bitch, yo! She was looking type rio
    Flower shirt with the straw hat holding parico
    Yo chico! Where's the rest of the kilos, we know you got 'em
    Red light dot him, spot him on his head, shot him
    His girl behind him sobbing reaching for her stocking
    A holster strapped to her leg which she had the glock in
    She heard me cocking, and still tried to go for hers
    [gunshot] Kirk was like, "Damn why you open hers
    Before she showed you where the Coca was? Fuck man..."

    (Chorus)

    (Verse 3)
    Dog it ain't much time for explaining, and you a hitman in training
    What to and not to do when the bullets start raining
    Killing and maintaining be the key for this academy
    Number one: never ever ever point a gat at me
    FUCK if it's unloaded, threaten this man's health
    Bust me by mistake I'll kill you my DAMN self
    Now hold it to the side firm, squeeze 'till they squirm
    Use nines for long niggas tec-nines for strong niggas
    Never let a contract disrespect your flow
    'Cuz you might be next to get it when collecting your dough
    But yo, the best target is one that barely moves
    German 2's that'll be kept tucked under daily news
    Every shot counts with the nigga hired to hit on
    You don't want an empty clip with more niggas to shit on
    No vest and you get lit on, then you might wanna split man
    But shit, man, that's all part of being a hitman

    (Conversation with amateur hitman)

    (Chorus)

    There's three no's to a hitman:
    No kids
    No mistakes
    No witnesses

    Class dismissed

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