Right about now, Thugs-n-harmony is on a come up, so to all you bustas out there, beware.

Stalkin' (gat fools), walkin' jack moves.

Woke up this morning with the thought of robbin' a bank to get rich.  Ain't ate in days so it ain't no thang to click click, bitch, gimme your shit.  Fresh out the pen, and I'm low on ends, fuck calm, I tried to stay thug.  Got flowin' skills, but niggas, they bitches, now I just can't buy my bud.  With my steel, grabbed the forty-four mag plus a sack, and I snag my leather rag, can't reveal when I glide with the moneybag, ride to the hide, count my flags.  I be livin' on the darkside, and I can't escape, some say it's a phase.  If it is, only way I'm gonna survive is if I play with my gauge.  It's a raid.  Put your face to pave.  If you try to play brave, you'll get slayed.  Pull down them shades, empty your pockets, watches, jewels, and you'll be safe.  I snatched the clerk up by her neck, put the gun in her mouth and said, "Bitch, you better move quick back to the safe, if you wanna be killed try some stupid shit.  And pushin' that panic switch will get you nowhere but hell."  Trail to the back with the money in the sack, locked 'em all in the vault, time to bail.  Well, tickets I'm out the door, hopped in the smug, and I break fast.  Get to my pad, sit back and laugh, loc'd out as I flip through my cash.  At last, nigga made good, and I got away smooth.  Now, I'm straight.  Covered my tracks, only description is that nigga with that leather face, fool.  I gotta get mine, and if you stall, then I'm gunnin'.  Just work your job, get paid.  I'll rob ya.  See, a nigga creep on a come up.

Stalkin' (gat fools), walkin' jack moves.

See, I'm sittin' in my room, and a nigga feelin' down, steady thinkin' 'bout how to get paid.  Gotta gauge at my waist that be spellin' out murder that'll get a nigga locked the cage.  Lay my head to bed, start to thinkin' hard, money is the cause.  What can I do me for?  Need to hit a lick, not a bullshit, but a real lick, like robbin' a jewelery store.  Select which one will I raid.  Got be headin' downtown, 'cause tonight's the night.  Dressed in my black, wearin' makeup on my face so a nigga can't be seen in the spotlight.  Stole two cars, and I parked one north, parked one east for the smooth switch. When a nigga bail, how the fuck he gonna tell if a nigga don't dwell in the same shit?  Climb to the roof, and I'm peepin' out the scene, and there's no one I can spot.  So I get my ass down, looked around through the window, and I broke the bitch out with a rock.  Now I jump my ass in.  Start to fillin' up the bag, and a nigga comin' up on these diamonds.  Grabbed a couple herring bones, and some rings, and some (brooches), still thinkin' how them diamonds was shining.  Went to the cash register, broke the bitch open, grabbed all the money they had.  And a nigga gettin' goin' gone to Bone, yeah, got to let my niggas check out my bag.  And I got away smooth, 'cause I had the shit planned, and ain't no bullshit get brung up.  That's what I gotta do if I wanna get paid, 'cause a nigga be creepin' on a come up.

Stalkin' (gat fools), walkin' jack moves.

Downin' Jamacian spliffs, little nigga Ripsta on this lick and bang bang.  Nigga that's the click on my brain, (?) another victim insane.  Feel the murderous nerve--this twelve shot pump, and I gotta bigger gat to back me.  Peelin' in my smug, thug, hoody, black skully, black khakis.  Creepin' in my smug, so reapin', peek into the window, let me cock this.  Nigga must've been meant to be jacked, 'cause here comes me hostage.  Up outta the door, with a pump to her temple, shoulda seen her tremble.  Push any alarms, and I drop them bombs on moms.  It's just that simple.  I took my ganjas and fried 'em.  Don't gimme no hassle, bitch, 'cause I've been scopin' for weeks, and I know y'all got some shit.  Clack back me gun, hollow point mixed with dum-dum kickin'.  Ladies and babies scream onto the floor.  ["Shut up and listen!"]  It's a jack move, fools.  Give me the jewels, the dope, the weed, the cheese, and answer me:  why and you hoes is cryin', 'cause bitches are dyin'?  Blood clot, here to be dead what one of them niggas said.  Buckshots up into them dreads, and I love when I hear them pump red.  One that callin' me bluff, I stuffed him with the quickness.  He made out with a smooth thirty Gs.  So all bodies must bleed, I need no witness.  So with a me slug, mo thug jumped into him smug, rolled the blunt up, good stuff reefer, hitted the Bone to give up love to my thugs, 'cause I done made it clean as fuck, and I flees the scene with a buck buck, 'cause a nigga be creepin' on a come up.

Stalkin' gat fools, walkin' jack moves.

"Creepin on ah Come Up" Lyrics
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