The Clock Is Tickin' - Woodie

Bullets fly, quicker than the eye you was hittin' maryjane

to ease the pain your homie died, muthufucka' imma ride

to the rallies on steel, I’m in the bushes camaflauged and

think about no clientelle, If I fail I rot in jail and if I succeed,

I’ll burn in hell so either way I’m fucked in these streets,

the bible says I’ll live my life rough most statistics say I’ll

die young, I can disagree cuz imma fuckin' walkin' time-bomb,

the clock is tickin' fingaz itchin' 2 unleash the grease and 32

empty homies that’ll die in defeat, the flesh is fresh you

wanna kill me sucka' really, your the type to pull your strap and

shoot holes in the ceiling, and how could you ever kill it,

sucka' give it up pull your strap aside ride to the club and

leave it up .im through to the cutz.

The clock is tickin' fingas itchin' in the bushes camoflauged

waiting for my victim

out to the cutz

The clock is tickin' fingas itchin' in the bushes camoflauged

waiting for my victim

out to the cutz

The clock is tickin' fingas itchin' in the bushes camoflauged

waitin' for my victim

out to the cutz

The clock is tickin' fingas itchin' in the bushes camoflauged

waitin' for my victim

out to the cutz.

I never thought that I would live to see the age of 21,

I grew up paranoid when I’m often sleepin with my gun,

50 dollas bought my first strap I sawed off points off gage,

since the day I layed off blaze I was stuck in evil wayz,

and amazed at the power that it could devour,

strip that O’G from his reputation in the late night hour,

Show shall we let the situation solve with funk,

But ain’t no stoppin' the poppin' that gets u droppin' these

punks, I found my calling and then I hooked up with some

natural born killaz' prefering 45 calllibers over nine millaz'

the 5−0'z out to kill us so I keep precaution steppin' out

the skylark wit them red chuckz flossin' hoggin' I be that

muthafucka' that u hate, Cuz u know I’ll take that clip and

slide it in intenial fate and devastate the yoc influence

state of mind that im stuck,

I’ll be committin' sins wit a devilish grin

I gives a fuck out to the cutz.

Creepin' crawlin' strapped not fallin'

but got a box of ammo

for the weapon that i’m haulin' the streets are callin'

so i’m comin' with artillery in chuckz and khakis as

I move up off my enemies, a pedigree soldier yes with

a proud nortern Cal' profile nothin' less I confess,

I’m a sinner but I cannot show remorse cuz I cant afford

to let the bible throw me off course Im gonna ride with

what I got and make these suckaz skulls crack,

The kill all 'em in bed and have my chips I gotta' have

the whole stack, do or die make these muthafuckaz understand

That their tryig to touch a banicle that they could

comprihend and pretend to be a soldier when your a punk, cuz

it’ll hold ya' hog tied in the trunk, and made one jump,

ran yo' mouth and now your bent up like a slut,

should of kept ur pistol cocked fuckin' with this yoc lord

out to the cutz