Lyrics to Sons Of Assassins
Now see I'm cockrrring up my nine. I'm poprrring in the clip and cap, and let you know what's really happening with that son of an assassin [son of an assassin]. Feelin' this killin' and peelin' caps cause I can't stop. My gangsta attitude comes from my muthafuckin pops kickin' ass and the #1 Assassin blastin' niggas for nothin', peelin caps with a passion. Now, I can remember when I was just a little niggero, rollin' through the hood with my pops. I watched him kill a ho. Boom [Boom!] was the sound of the nine when they kill ya. So you didn't pay your debt, but you had to pay the consequence [but you had to pay the consequence, and blood splattered all on the ground--it made my ass sick. I watched her fall and hit the ground just like a damn brick [damn brick]. He hit the gas, and we was tickets with the quickness. "G, she tried to play me out. That's the way it gotta be, yeah," that's what he said. "Don't tell a soul, if you love me son." He gave me a hug. I said, "I won't, 'cause I know how it's done." And now I lay me down to sleep, hopin' that I don't dream, 'cause every night I get a vision of that same thing [the same one I fucked up], and like a fool I'm on a block, we're sellin' mo' dope, fuckin' wit my cash flow, like pops I let my gun smoke. I made a promise. I won't tell if your askin'. I'm just that muthafuckin son of an assassin.
Ever since I was seven I've been a troubled-ass nigga, used to sneak my father's guns just to play with that triggas [Don't fuck with my guns, boy]. One day I'm playin' with the nine, I get a flashback, and get to thinkin' about the muthafuckin' bullies in my class that's always fuckin with me, but this shit's has to stop. The next morning I snuck, and I stuck my father's nine in my lunchbox. I'm on my way to school, that's when I spotted the faggot. Removed the nine from the lunchbox and slipped the bitch in my jacket. Now I'm lookin' for a reason just to straight let the trigger click. I walked over to him and said, "What's up now, bitch?" The fucka-sucka started steppin', and it swung but he missed. I knew the nigga felt pissed 'cause it was the nine that he kissed. I socked the bitch in the face and to the ground with this sucka, and this boy didn't hesitate, he broke off quicker than a muthafucka [Run, muthafucka, run!]. Ran inside the building thinking that was gonna save him, but I caught up with the nigga, pulled out the nine, and I sprayed him. Tossed the gun to the pavement, I'm heading straight for the hizzy. No more will Krayzie be bullied cause Krayzie Bone just got busy. Then ran home, told my father, he said "I know why you did it, son. The punk was fuckin' with ya, so ya had to get rid of him." Heard a knock on the door, he thought, "Yo, what the fuck is this?!" Police surrounded my hizzy with reporters and psychologists. My father grabbed his gun and started pullin' the trigger ["Get him, Dad, get him!"]. Now you know why I'm labeled a little crazy-ass nigga. I watched while my Pops continued blastin'. My attitude is hereditary, nigga, 'cause I'm the son of an assassin.
My father went in the pen when I was 'bout two or three. They had caught him [Jail ain't shit!] for manslaughter and murder in the first degree. I haven't heard from him in about a month or two, until one night when I was watchin the eleven'oclock news, 'cause I guess there's some insane inmate just now broke out the pen, and he can either be in Lorain, Columbus, or Cleveland.
Right then it dawned upon me I'm like, "What in the Hell?!" And then I heard a "ring-ring" on my doorbell, so when I opened the door, and much more to my surprise, me and my pops was face to face, lookin' eye to eye [Hello, son]. He said, "Son I'm on the run, and I don't wanna be alone." I said, "Don't say another word, 'cause me and you is gone." I went upstairs and got the gauge, the pump, the nine's legit, until holice got in the yard and cold stormed the shit. We jumped up into the [Gauge to your ass, nigga] hizzy. I threw my daddy the nine. I shot one cop in the chest; he shot two cops in the spine. You know I'm pullin' the trigger, right, my bullets steadily hittin'. I go to pull it again, shit [damn], I ran out of ammunition [Where the fuck are the bullets at?!]. I reach up for the pump, and in a flash I got dumped and turned around, holice gonna smoke my ass. I can feel my life [Son!] passin'. I know I'm bout to die too, and just before I left I said "Dad, I love you. [I love you, Dad]."
Ever since I was seven I've been a troubled-ass nigga, used to sneak my father's guns just to play with that triggas [Don't fuck with my guns, boy]. One day I'm playin' with the nine, I get a flashback, and get to thinkin' about the muthafuckin' bullies in my class that's always fuckin with me, but this shit's has to stop. The next morning I snuck, and I stuck my father's nine in my lunchbox. I'm on my way to school, that's when I spotted the faggot. Removed the nine from the lunchbox and slipped the bitch in my jacket. Now I'm lookin' for a reason just to straight let the trigger click. I walked over to him and said, "What's up now, bitch?" The fucka-sucka started steppin', and it swung but he missed. I knew the nigga felt pissed 'cause it was the nine that he kissed. I socked the bitch in the face and to the ground with this sucka, and this boy didn't hesitate, he broke off quicker than a muthafucka [Run, muthafucka, run!]. Ran inside the building thinking that was gonna save him, but I caught up with the nigga, pulled out the nine, and I sprayed him. Tossed the gun to the pavement, I'm heading straight for the hizzy. No more will Krayzie be bullied cause Krayzie Bone just got busy. Then ran home, told my father, he said "I know why you did it, son. The punk was fuckin' with ya, so ya had to get rid of him." Heard a knock on the door, he thought, "Yo, what the fuck is this?!" Police surrounded my hizzy with reporters and psychologists. My father grabbed his gun and started pullin' the trigger ["Get him, Dad, get him!"]. Now you know why I'm labeled a little crazy-ass nigga. I watched while my Pops continued blastin'. My attitude is hereditary, nigga, 'cause I'm the son of an assassin.
My father went in the pen when I was 'bout two or three. They had caught him [Jail ain't shit!] for manslaughter and murder in the first degree. I haven't heard from him in about a month or two, until one night when I was watchin the eleven'oclock news, 'cause I guess there's some insane inmate just now broke out the pen, and he can either be in Lorain, Columbus, or Cleveland.
Right then it dawned upon me I'm like, "What in the Hell?!" And then I heard a "ring-ring" on my doorbell, so when I opened the door, and much more to my surprise, me and my pops was face to face, lookin' eye to eye [Hello, son]. He said, "Son I'm on the run, and I don't wanna be alone." I said, "Don't say another word, 'cause me and you is gone." I went upstairs and got the gauge, the pump, the nine's legit, until holice got in the yard and cold stormed the shit. We jumped up into the [Gauge to your ass, nigga] hizzy. I threw my daddy the nine. I shot one cop in the chest; he shot two cops in the spine. You know I'm pullin' the trigger, right, my bullets steadily hittin'. I go to pull it again, shit [damn], I ran out of ammunition [Where the fuck are the bullets at?!]. I reach up for the pump, and in a flash I got dumped and turned around, holice gonna smoke my ass. I can feel my life [Son!] passin'. I know I'm bout to die too, and just before I left I said "Dad, I love you. [I love you, Dad]."
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