text: Its some Junior Mafia shit right here
  We just gonna set it off
  Wes know the deal
  This shit is real
  On this end, uh
  Shit is real on this end
  No friends, J-M
  Shit is real on this end
  No friends, J-M
  Got into my mind, shit is smoked up, my sight is blind
  Cock back the nine cause I might not like what I find
  Murders I seen, killer fiend
  Through the endosheen mean burst into flying guilotine
  Hennesey I sip til Im ripped
  Iron the gun and slip exhale hollow tips
  With my pointer angle, this must be the devils triangle
  Confused, so I mangle, demons I had to strangle
  Professional hitman and so they guns, multi clips
  I grab my gats, cock, go back and let him pull it
  I said Ill rough a real bitch, nigga, you better back up
  With the four-four devil loaded, so motherfuckers slack up
  I shit the raps and craps, give me my snaps
  Bitches wanting the claps cause Im leaving em with fucking gaps
  I write rhymes, the game mind, the maintain mind
  The rag around my head is for the gang sign
  So with the bottom lick the sha body shody
  Fear nobody adolescence catching fucking bodies
  On all you bitches, gang-bangers, snitches
  I get so fucked up I dont know, which, which, is which is
  Larcenys a part of me, trifling is stifling, MCs on they ass
  Two snakes in the fucking grass, nigga
  Do you know what time is is?
  No friends, J-M
   The keys, G-S 3s, the papes
  Bustin in bitches making their periods late
  Cleaning out cribs, coke crums off the plate
  Niggas real protective, young Gs perspective
   The keys, G-S 3s, the papes
  Bustin in bitches making their periods late
  Cleaning out cribs, coke crums off the plate
  Niggas real protective, young Gs perspective
   The dirty trigger nigga, fuck the looking good shit
  I rather grab my gat, cock bullshit
  Heat I keep when I creep
  Using the Snake intellect to catch wreck and count them greens
  A nigga drops, I wish it was the cops
  Shit is hot, got the motherfucking block locked
  Wicked creator, life eliminator
  Continue to sin you, murders on the menu
  Which get in you, meet the boom on the stab wound
  Blood harvester tomb catch a body every full moon
  MCs with temptation, death by asphyxiation
  Snake relation like proper damn nation
  Since birth on this scortched dirt
  Badness with the lyricals pocket full of miracles
  Im sick, and sick of being tired
  Aint a soul I fear, too tired to care
  At sunrise to let my tempature rise
  Eagle eyes, dont believe in me, believe your eyes
  Should I cry? Cause I wet a nigga then he die
  Go cock my line, roll up and get high
   The keys, G-S 3s, the papes
  Bustin in bitches making their periods late
  Cleaning out cribs, coke crums off the plate
  Niggas real protective, young Gs perspective
   The keys, G-S 3s, the papes
  Bustin in bitches making their periods late
  Cleaning out cribs, coke crums off the plate
  Niggas real protective, young Gs perspective
  I cause dirty bodies and bloodclots, very busses and buck shots
  Cock gluts and run the block, niggas who clean they clucks
  Niggas can see me nots, let it get hot
  Murder mo niggas and got a longer wrap sheet than mets and cot
  Because I only get drastic so who has the black plastic
  Specs in the back with all the caskets
  Who can be mo killa? Blood spilla, clips with hollow points
  So when a nigga slips he shits like hes got salmonela
  Danger approaches, checking for who gets closest
  Youre closest to get my focus, smoke these rookies like roaches
  Who can cause more terror than this like a full terrorist
  Breaking niggas like matches, broken bitches appoaches
  And you know this nigga lets it increase
  With mo heat than a heater specialy when I got my milimeter
  Burning up these niggas like VD, these niggas try to see me
  Now Im making benders like Houdini
   The keys, G-S 3s, the papes
  Bustin in bitches making their periods late
  Cleaning out cribs, coke crums off the plate
  Niggas real protective, young Gs perspective
   The keys, G-S 3s, the papes
  Bustin in bitches making their periods late
  Cleaning out cribs, coke crums off the plate
  Niggas real protective, young Gs perspective
  No doubt, no doubt
  The Bay Area meets Bedstuy
  Black Jack
  Junior M.A.F.I.A
  Frank White is the fucker
  Keeping it real for the 9-6 until, uh
  Yeah, no friends, J-M
  Uh, no friends, J-M
  I need a Black Jack
  Uh, no friends, J-M
  Uh, The Snakes
  No friends, J-M, uh
  No friends, J-M, uh
  Uh, No friends J-M