Burning Season

Get the vests; get the vests



Word up grab your nines



Crazy head get out there God

Blast that nigga hard



It's all real over here



Killa Sin 9th Prince what



We don't give a fuck





Yo it's burning season

Y'all thugs is guiltly of high treason

Many of them bleeding

Some getting sent to the brain for no reason

On the streets niggas kill without a license, in Scarsville

It's all for real cause everything is real

Don't sleep on the average cat he's packing steel



Ayo nigga I'm on the cash rules

Wasted in my hand, half a hundred grand

Injure that pretender in the black land

Heard he be the crack man

Selling major jums (?) by the pager son

He the one sporting crazy tunes (?) lace 'em with your tongue

So here's the plan

Get the glock I got the doo-wop

Follow him for two blocks

And pop him if he do cock

Scat back better snap his nap back for that black

Pass the stacks to Fat Cat and find out where the crack's at

Rolling out make sure you keep your phone out

So I can reach your shit quick

Get his whip stripped and take my own route

For safety

Mistakes be for hasty

Many jakes who chase me

But never have the space to embrace me

A fool's game where all the rules change

I never move the same

But who's to blame

My nigga Buddha came with the ruger aim

Somebody screamed stop the violence