187 Skillz

[Intro]
(Chunk): Motherfuckers down the street tryin' to start some shit, man
(Sean T): Is that right?
(Chunk): Think a nigga's soft or somethin'
(Sean T): How you gonna handle these chumps?
(Chunk): I'm gonna show these niggas my motherfuckin' 187 skills, man, let's loc up; so where's that motherfuckin' Glock at?
(Sean T): Right here

[Verse 1: Chunk]
How many bullets does it take to make a body twitch?
And you can put me in the chair, fuck it, pull the switch
Cuz I ain't scared to go when it's my time
I'll be seein' visions of a gangbanger's lifeline
Sayin' much love to my niggas doin' much dirt
Fuckin' with the menace you'll be in for a world of hurt
And that stands for them bitches in the white sheets
String them motherfuckers up tight till they can't breathe
And then unload two clips into the middle section
Say your blessings for a funky honky delicatessen
Drop five on the dank right before we kill
Bleedin' through them white sheets, bleed, I love to see it spill
You crossed the path of a menace, nigga, to the heart
So now I feed like T-Rex on Jurassic Park
And if you hear me creepin' through, trynna mean mug
You'll be the victim of a .44 long slug
This ain't no Rodney King thing with the camcorder
It's all about straight murder, mayhem and torture
From two niggas that bring spine-tinglin' chills
You gets peeled, cuz I'm 187 skilled (1-8-7)

[Hook]
1-8-7
1-8-7
1-8-7
The 1-8-7 don't stop

1-8-7
1-8-7
1-8-7
The 1-8-7 don't stop

[Verse 2: Sean T]
Well it's me, Sean T, the gangsta in black, man
Comin' real again, with the Glock in hand
Still waitin' for that one nigga to test me
So I can unload the prize into his chest, G
Yeah I'm ill and I deal with some real niggas
You'd better chill, feel the steel and get peeled, nigga
Cuz I'm livin' in the times of a dark age
And I can't stand bein' around where no marks stay
Yeah, 1-8-7's what I'm hollerin'
So be a victim, if you want, of a hollow one
Cuz where I'm from, niggas ain't afraid to buck
Fools constantly stay in a nigga's look
You can be that one trick that tries to flex up
And get you whole entire chest cavity torn up
Fool, I thought you knew who you was dealin' with
I never leave the pad without my mask and my killin' kit
The motherfuckin' underdog is in this bitch
Puttin' an end to these bustas that be talkin' shit
Step up, motherfucker, if you think you will
And catch a [gunshot sound], cuz I'm 1-8-7 skilled (1-8-7)

[Hook]
1-8-7
1-8-7
1-8-7
The 1-8-7 don't stop

1-8-7
1-8-7
1-8-7
The 1-8-7 don't stop

[Verse 3: Chunk]
Well, my Glock spits fire at the one I don't like
Man, he's in for some shit, cuz it's nighty-night, sleep tight
It ain't no use, so don't say your prayers
Cuz you're hell bound, plus you'll never see them heaven stairs
Just prepare for the judgment, cold where the slugs went
As for your choir now, well, they're Joneses with their families spent
Now here's a hint, man, you'll never get a second chance
To go to the exact same time that the bullets danced
Four Murder One Gs and a lynched under
Makin' motherfuckers wonder will you do that other
When the Murder One family hit, we too thick
And quick to pull a strap and put a hot one in a shady trick
Whip the dick and my balls, make 'em stand tall
After all, you're headed for the cemeteries, downfall
Murder One G, niggas realer than real
You gets peeled cuz I'm 1-8-7 skilled (1-8-7 skilled)

[Hook]
1-8-7
1-8-7
1-8-7
The 1-8-7 don't stop

1-8-7
1-8-7
1-8-7
The 1-8-7 don't stop

1-8-7
1-8-7
1-8-7
The 1-8-7 don't stop

1-8-7
1-8-7
1-8-7
The 1-8-7 don't stop

Hey, stop nigga, stop, pull the motherfuckin' car over, there the nigga is right there, yeah, uh-huh

What's up, nigga?

What's up, man?

What's up, homie, you trippin'?

Bro, man, dude, I thought we was cool, man, you better than that, homie

Yeah, we cool now, nigga

(Gunshots)

C'mon, c'mon, get in the car

Yeah, 1-8-7 skilled, mark-ass nigga