Marked for Death chords by C‐Bo
Intro 1
G
Verse 1
G
Used to be from the set
but now your ass a mark
I knew you was a bitch
from the very start
So I'ma check your ass on sight
Bomb to the iron when you
hit the concrete
We pulled a 9 and had our homies
over that ass yellin' Hoorah!
Fuckin' with the psycho fools, die!
Cause when you fuck the hood,
you fuck your family
And when we fuck you,
we puttin' your ass in panties
Just like your trick -ass sister
tag -teamin'
with the whole damn hood
Fuckin' diss her,
but let me put my Jimmy on
Before I bust your ass upside
the head with the chrome
I just thought I'd let them know
That you went from one
hood to the next
just like a hoe
Remember 29th Street, do a dodgy?
And look at you now, straight OP,
come through my hood
and get smacked with a booze bottle
Put the gauze in your chin
and leave your head hollow
Cause the road don't play
when it comes to checking the mark
Lock you in the trunk
and let the nine bark
Then off into the river,
cause that's how you roll
as a bitch made nigga
You never get dap without
me pulling a strap
and lighting your ass up like a mat
Lil' Ho you're fucked now,
can't go buck wild
Got your punk ass at the
bottom of the pound
Beatin' you down,
crackin' your fuckin' crown
And it's on for twenty -nine rounds,
no remorse
As I crack your ass in the face
with a forty and crazy horse
Puttin' my foot in your ass so deep,
I'm gettin' shit on my knees
And when you walk the yard,
I'm pullin' your jacket
Face to face,
a nigga act like you won't static
So I can take one, two, three, four,
and leave your whole face swole, ho
You should've thought twice
before you marked up, bitch
And I wouldn't have to buck shit
But then you sin,
cause once you win, you win, yep
And once you mark,
you mark for death
It's the bald head nut that
got your 4D
Fishtailin' in the cut
You got your gattin' diggin' lap
Cause you don't wanna get jacked
And become a victim of the black crime
So you take a chance, ridin' with your gat
And keepin' it close
to your shootin' hand
But watch out for the police
Cause they'll make you hit some blocks
In Tulsa, 318
G
And in 93, we can't have that
A gang of niggas full of the yakkin'
Goin' after Jack
G
Got that big gat, sportin' a black hat
Black loafs, black gloves,
down for the deck
G
And if your windows is up ,
he got the window popper
Sometimes only fifteen,
jackin' with a topper
G
And it don't make sense to run,
just get out your shit
Or catch a few hot ones
Marked for Death
C‐Bo
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