HITTEM WHERE IT HURTS lyrics

[Verse 1: JMattson]
b*tch, I'm ridin' with the mothaf*ckin' Bowie in the glovebox
Hit 'em where it hurts, snatch your soul and watch the blood drop
Eyes red, face blank, faded in my mugshot
Whippin' while I'm smokin' while you posted at the bus stop
f*ck cops
HHM b*tch, we a mothaf*ckin' must watch
As a youngin' kept a quarter in my lunchbox
Only runnin' from the sound of pigs and gunshots
b*tch, f*ck off
I don't wanna have to listen to these bitin' b*tches
Everybody studying us, tell 'em mind they business
Mothaf*ckas corny with this sh*t and I'ont get it
Every lil' f*ckin' thing they doin', I done did it
Like a minute ago
Better get your ho before she hop up in the backseat
I never murdered but you shouldn't put it past me
Better get that dough and hand it over need it last week
Heard they talkin', but they never wanna @ me

[Verse 2: SXMPRA]
Young SXMPRA never settle
When I get up on the mic, it’s on
When a pus*y mothaf*cka barkin', never bitin', they gone
When I creep up out the catacombs, you know I’m comin' back strong
Wanna beat the beast but I keep the peace until I keep it too long
Yuh, murder on da beat
I don’t really wanna be seen, but I gotta be me
All black beanie with da jeans, I'ma scheme on a team
Better know what I mean like
It’s Schema da posse
With the Hell Hound Militia
We keep it killa, you feel it
And all these f*ckas vanilla
All these little rappers get up in they f*ckin feelings tell em get up out my face if this is you that I’m hearing I’m tryna
Move on up
I wanna sit at the top
And I got no time for mothaf*ckas that be talkin' a lot (What?)
I'ma keep on spittin 'til I get my f*ckin' pesos
Lay low, schemin' like a demon to the grave hoe
pus*y mothaf*ckas gonna wanna see me fail, but I keep on f*ckin killin' it 'til I'm old and f*ckin' frail
[Verse 3: MVKO]
Motha f*ckas hate me 'cause their girlfriends wanna f*ck me
Heart filled up with poison, lead is pumpin' through my bloodstream
Talk that sh*t behind a desktop that sh*t doesn't bug me
Keep that energy in person 'cause I'll make a pus*y bleed
Knife didn't work, you gon' need a gun to quiet me
Creepin' in the bushes 'round your house, I do it silently
Never trust a soul or a ho 'cause they trifling
Mad because you ain't me and I'm everything you try to be
Blunt lit, wrist slit, flat tires on the Chevy while I'm rollin' with a thick b*tch
Ten sticks and drums clips, if I pull up on your block you better f*ckin' run b*tch
Keep running your mouth, I'll be tearing out your tongue, b*tch
You ain't 'bout sh*t so I'll call you Eric King
Talk tough and I'll pull up and put a hatchet in your knees
Pull the burner from my waste band and send a bullet through your teeth
Send your ass to hell, I promise no one gonna grieve