Friday afternoon, we in Jumah facin' Meccah
You ain't gotta do much to my fam to make me wet ya
You ain't gotta nothing at all, I'll party wit ya
When the mob give a mobsta a call, I gotta get ya
Here's a message from my n***a I was sent to deal with ya
A hit man yeah I'm walking 'round with ya picture
At all your hang outs won't be long 'for I catch ya
Comin' out the store, scope you out then I whop you yo
Yeah n***a turn your head into sloppy Joe
Caught up in the world, doin' this against my own kind
Pops in the pen killin' n***as over phone time
Moms blowin' stones I'm on my own, came from a long line
Of gangster and thugs, hittin' banks and sellin' drugs
But blame it on the bad guy, when all I ever wanted to be was mad fly
Every time I close my eyes I realize that I probably should
Slow it down blood and get my mind back