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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Organized Konfusion
Organized Konfusion
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Organized Konfusion
Organized Konfusion
Songwriter
Lawrence Baskerville
Lawrence Baskerville
Songwriter
Troy Donald Jamerson
Troy Donald Jamerson
Songwriter

Lyrics

Let the trigger finger put the pressure to the mechanism Which gives a response, for the automatic Clip to release projectiles in single file Forcing me to ignite then travel through the barrel Headed for the light at the end of a tunnel With no specific target in sight Slow the flow like H2O water Visualize, the scene of a homicide, a slaughter No remorse for the course I take When you pull it, the result's a stray bullet Niggaz who knew hit the ground runnin' and stay down Except for the kids who played on the playground 'Cause for some little girl, she'll never see more than six years of life Trifling, when she fell from the seesaw But umm wait, my course isn't over Fled out of the other side of her head towards a red Range Rover Then I ricochet fast past a brother's ass, oh damn What that nigga say, "Aw fuck it", next target's Margaret's face And I struck it, now it's a flood of blood in circumference to her face And an abundance of brains all over the street Shame, how we had to meet, dashin', buckin' Greet by fuckin' family, they follow behind me in a orderly fashion Bashin' through flesh, I'm wild crashin' through the doors Of projects hallways to deflect off of the tile I'm coming for you, little girl, once inside, I shatter your world Swirl, no more dreams no hopes when I spray You better pray, to the Pope or the Vatican Before I go rat-tat-a-tat again I'm mad again, brother, somebody's mother will be sad again But, whose blue skies will turn gray From the attack, of the Mac-11, I'm a stray bullet Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it Nobody seen shit, nobody heard it Gun balls of fire, I'm traveling at higher speeds To proceed to penetrate flesh, hitting the splint After splitting the chest of a Queens fiend Age of pagers shredded to pieces from the Glock 9 And it's hollow tips, it releases the polices in back of the ambulance Blood loss as I shift across your chest Arrest, rupture, I mess up ya, slasher Shall I bust ya liver, faster, blood pours Now it's up to the master, boom, as I crash open the doors Thank me for spraying the operating room The body still consumes me, doc had to remove me Mmm Lord, why do they use me? I'm takin' individual for keeps Hobbes So peep the cops, in the ghetto bustin' shots for props And when I hit, shit, soon you forgets-me-not Cops tried to explain to his pops what I done I flip up the hollow tipper and I'm not the one And as a human I'm the surprising one Prince Po, I flow the ripper, either way You never, ever know how I'm coming Metamorphasizing, rising in turbulence Condensed into a bullet, pull it, now I'm making moves With no sympathizing, uh, so take a hit nigga, sprint Onto the scenario, I'm at a party with O A lot of honies parlay and the DJ's playin' the Fudge Pudge flow Five niggaz come up in the club for a rub Yo, O peep it, oh shit, O duck (Oh shit! Oh shit!) Another hit, another struck, here comes Mr. Stray Bullet Five, the tip, getting my jollies from the screams of the ripped In your chest, then I flip, nip your liver, blood flowin' like a river Money starts to shiver then I give a delivery of burns Bruises fake shoes is your renaissance No response your moms is out cold Figure I'm bigger takin' your heart nigga at twenty years old Stray bullet
Writer(s): Troy Jamerson, Lawrence Baskerville, Laurence Mizell Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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