True Crimes (Bishop Lamont)

[Intro] True... crime (Fire Squad) True... crime True... crime (here we go) True... crime [Bishop] Good Lord they shootin' at me Smile on my face 'cause I'm trigger happy Bitch get my drink and make it snappy 'Fore I leave your ass screamin' for a taxi True Crimes and nothin' but I just seen that nigga Reuben jack a ice cream truck Then quick across the street and rob a Pizza Hut American Idol ain't my title I'm Elmer Fudd with a big ass rifle Lurkin' the block, homicidal And robbin' nuns, gimme your bible (I'm kidding) Don't you know I'm loco homes With a trenchcoat like Sherlock Holmes Full of shotguns and big ass chromes (why) Set to break in all your homes (why) And take that, take that, like Puffy Combs [Chorus: Bishop] Gimme your gun, gimme your knife (why) It's True Crimes, better run for your life Hide your kids, hold your wife (why) It's True Crimes, better touch your ice Cut your purse, stash your cash (why) It's True Crimes, I'm about to blast Call the cops and lock your doors (why) It's True Crimes, and I'm taking yours [Bishop] Went up to the store and I picked 'em Mask and gloves, guess what, it's a stick 'em Gimme all your money honey and a big gold band Too quick bitch witch don't say no I'm so Out my mind I can't be serious Get hit so hard you'll have an out of body experience No interference with the current proceedings Or you'll be well in sand for some serious beatings Oh hi, oh my it's a tough guy Get your face messed up like I'm Vanilla Sky You used to be a super-size now you're just a small fry Ain't got enough gas so I do a walk-by (blah) Hey, that's a nice Motorola With GPS, punk hand it over (hand it over) 'Fore I attack your ass for your old Corolla (old Corolla) He'll roll your ass up like a peach folder [Chorus] [Bishop] Shit, ain't nothin' left to spit I done kicked enough shit to get the world on my dick I'm Houdini in a Beanie got that Magic Stick Stay in bikinis eeny meeny let me take my pick It's like Memph Jay and Missy yo "is that your chick" The way I'm pimpin' in this game it'll make you sick I'm in the thing with wood grain with the top to flip While your faggot ass is riding on a bike like dick (screech) This ain't no game Hafta vision cataclysm, bringin' extra ammunition You can really end up missin' if you freakin' with my mission Yo we meetin' to more dishin your new beautician or not Drew dissin so, you listen and pay close attention OK Before I go from rap to killin' milla gorilla the mack milla's spill ya Don't get me wreckin' shit like Mecca God feel ya yeah [Chorus] True... Crime [repeat to fade]