Lyrics:

HUSALAH

[Verse 1]
Dippin, mind on my riches
36 shots in my clip and my shit rip listen
You can hear death reppin
Riden in a chevy 3 caprice with his weapon
And his name is Husalah
Manifested the real bringing death to suckas
Its classic, the words of a psycho hand on my rifle
Tucked by the light pole
Ichin to take blood
Waiting to take life from haters with slanderous tongues
I like fights but its fun to handle the gun
Niggas been rich been on the run been on one
My satanic cannon it's tragic
Everytime I rap BOOODDAT!! and it's tragic
Young smilin' ridin in my drop
Or my hundred thouwow shutin down parkin lots nigga

[hook]
They didn't belieave me,(beleave me)when I told um I was crazy(crazy)
Riden in my hundred thousand dollar car, all I think about is murder lately(lately)

[Verse2]
You wanna get fly like a gangsta, push pies like a gangsta
But you scared to die like a gangsta and when it's really going down
You niggas ain't around mac 9 you lay em down the clip hold 60 rounds
Though I can spit like rap and rhyme and slow it down pop em off wit that
Slow flow, that o show. I pull up on 4's up in the O's boat bitches on my dick
But all I give a shit about is coke. I'm in the motha fucken kitchen whippin doing
Things with this heroin that's not to mention, cross country shippin, money is flippin, loadin up these clips for these niggas thats snitchin, BITCH!
My shit rip like a jimmy that don't fit. I told y'all niggas that it's HUSALAH. Ridin in my shit tryina murda mothafuckaz, ridin round town finna murda muthafuckaz

[hook]
Murder isn't easy, but when you do it once you can do it a million times take a million lives. Selling dope is easy, but when you get caught ask yourself can you do your time, or snitch and die, this is why

[Verse3]
I don't sleep! keep a long thing that's atleast three feet
People die everyday cause they instincts weak
When you do sell a thing than your plannin' for defeat this is real life
And the things that people do is real trife more often than not the results
Is your life. I'm on my way to the federal correctional
Climb in my SL 5 every late night. Thinkin how my life is miraculous
Ex king-pin gettin rich from this rap shit. In '94 i sold my soul for the crack shit in '99 I found out that was black shit. Graduate to bricks wrote a plan and a tactic, got rich, but the end was a classic. Young dope deala duckin feds in the traffic, young dope deala duckin feds in the traffic. Got convicted so now I can rap it most these rappers never did it so they actin. They was neva even seen on the set all the time they were gang-bangin on the internet, but the SL 500 is real the 2.76's will take off ya grill. By the time this comes out i'ma be locked up, but the MOB still got shit locked up. You gonna get tired of hidin try to come outside and thats the night your bitch ass gonna get popped up