(Theyre all gonna laugh at you) (Theyre all gonna laugh at you) (Hahahahahaha) (Theyre all gonna laugh at you)
Enter the mind of a sick nigga. With bloody uzi clips Decapitated heads in baskets Closed caskets. Murda on wax. Nigga thats what its all about Thats what you bought the muthafuckin tape for. Murda on wax. Redrum. On wax. Nigga I said redrum on wax.
Gotta get my prozac fore I go back And murda these muthafuckas Jumpin up out yo bushes in front a yo house with a tech nine Leavin in yo spine a flurry a bullets Its that killa S-P-I-C-E A lot a these jealous muthafuckas they wanna murda me But they cant fuck with that giggedy-giggedy-gangsta The nigga thats leavin they muthafuckin body parts in dumpstas Budda-bye-bye-bye feel them blood clot rastas The niggaz who be out there slippin catch some buckshots to them head Pullin up four deep in an old school caddy Fully auto-maddy Empty the clip, niggaz like paddy In the alley, niggaz domes they cap Pistol whippin muthafuckas, got some blood on my strap
(Chorus)
What goes on in the mind of a sick nigga? Them bloody bodies, face down in the dirty river What goes on in the mind of a sick nigga? Redrum, professinal gravedigga What goes on in the mind of a sick nigga? Them bloody bodies, face down in them dirty river What goes on in the mind of a sick nigga? 187, professinal gravedigga
Im bailin up out the cut and niggaz they dont know what the fuck happened Im laughin and blastin, rippin asses in half an Street sweepin these niggaz up under the rug Plug they ass, makin they hooptie blow up when they crash Zonin out that hash Face down, back open, hopin they aint no snitches scopin Witnesses witness they own smokin See it aint no joke and nothing funny Bustin caps in yo ass like Yosemite Sam and Bugs Bunny They all see my comin and then they fled Im shootin these niggaz off in the backa they head Blowin off they legs Talkin shit while they dyin Fuckin off they high an Hollow points keepin these niggaz cold bodies fryin I aint no stranger to this killin shit You shoulda thought before you fucked with this nigga you was dealin with You see I mobs through the ghetto smokin hash blunts Stalkin game in the streets I grew up in And when the shit get funky I just get on up And blow your head off with a muthafuckin mac 10, bitch
Chorus
Youll be outta this muthafucka like Ron Goldman, chopped the fuck up Aint no nigga livin alive that survived And had me caught up in some bullshit Now who you tryin to fuck up in the hustle This 20 gaugell ripple your ass up like a can a Ruffles Im tryin to bubble like Johnson and Johnson With one in the chamber up an I load this strap with a 45 Thompson And we gon see if all that shit is true Comin up out the bay, guaranteed to be 187 proof You see my bustin with one hand up on my nutsac Departin domes yellin out whos the muthafuckin mac Its that red infa, nigga with a hot temper I got your funeral date set up for next September You gon be deader than livin presidents Cuz in a couple a secs your soul gon be checkin up outta its residence
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