[Chorus: Ghostface Killah]
Young Gods when you killed them guns you kill sons
Then get sent to the pen for murder one
I rather be rich, lay back and fuck a chick
Can't now son I'm being hit by a bullet

[Verse 1: La the Darkman]
The garden of redemption, half of my clan is fenced in
For being lynch men, never listen like Sonny Liston
On Riker's pissing 25 was no surprise
He shot 3 n***as left one paralyzed
With bloody palms, them n***as tried to rape his moms
Son shooting at their chest shells went through his charm
On Saint Nick call that Branson weed spot kid
Two n***as dead, history, like a pyramid
He ran with cleaves to an island off in Florida Keys
Bent out, dunn had a three-story penthouse
450 feet off South Beach
Young fakes made the news on the New York streets
Extraordinary he sent his men to see the n***a buried
Check the sum though, DT Joe Colombo
Got a tip Brent was out in Florida on the low
Pushing a Benz-O, six-O-O and more
He selling smoke out the store, po kicked in the door
Brent was in the back gambling
With 2 pounds of green on the table
My dunn escape route was unstable
Of course, he fucked up sniffing white horse
The German's hit his laboratory with the task force
Brent was too high reached up, cocked the four-five
First DT hit the back, caught a shell through his eye
He screamed the rest of his police team
Shot Brent to death like a '88 fiend
[Chorus: Ghostface Killah]
Young Gods when you killed them guns you kill sons
Then get sent to the pen for murder one
I rather be rich, lay back and fuck a chick
Can't now son I'm being hit by a bullet

[Verse 2: 12 O'Clock]
N***a shut the fuck up and drown the keys in the pool
Keep your cool, feds knocking on the door soon
See, they heard about that cat you murdered in the pool room
You should've swarmed on 'em, stayed in late, luring doom on 'em
Jet skied on 'em then flew around corner on 'em
4 o'clock in the morning, I threw the ski mask on 'em
My little man's on the corner when I pulled it on 'em
357 snub-nosing on 'em
Some bitches that was bugging for him you know 'em
The bitches probably still be holding
Went to 25 years on 'em they growing
Now back to the shits with the twelve on it to be on it
12 O'Clock is on it Darkman on it
And n***as don't want it

[Chorus: Ghostface Killah]
Young Gods when you killed them guns you kill sons
Then get sent to the pen for murder one
I rather be rich, lay back and fuck a chick
Can't now son I'm being hit by a bullet