Headin’ 4 the Jack

[Verse 1: C-Bo & Master P]
Woke up at nine, got a page code 510
Head still spinnin' off that Gatorade and gin (Damn)
Stumbled to the bathroom, picked up my mobile phone
Hit power plus the digits, now I'm waitin' for roam
Mm, shook my dick and on the line came Master P
I said, "What up, Bo? I got a lick on some keys
And we gon' do this shit like Gs, so meet me in The Bay
A quarter mill' in 'caine fool, so bring your HK
And get your gloves, 'cause you gonna get your hands dirty
Leave them fools drippin', I mean cold turkey
And bring your gat, 'cause we gonna break 'em to they knees
And like you say, Bo, rat-heads get nothin' but cheese
And don't forget to bring a ounce of that sticky dank
So we be high as a bird as we hoo-ride on this gank"

[Chorus: C-Bo & Master P]
Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat
Bo and Master P down to rat-tat-tat-tat
Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat
Bo and Master P down to rat-tat-tat-tat
Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat
Bo and Master P down to rat-tat-tat-tat

[Verse 2: C-Bo]
Got off the phone, been on for a half hour
Dropped my drawers, then hopped off and took a shower
Stepped out, put on my Guess and some K-Swiss
Backed my Regal off the grass onto the pavement
Hit I-80, west bound to Richtown
Strapped with the HK-40, ready to put that jack down
Different environment, niggas be retirin'
Runnin' up for application when some niggas ain't hirin' (Mhm)
I'm on a mission, takin' mines and gettin' yours (Break yourself)
Like I said before, it's nothin' but that hardcore
Me and Master P done hooked up on a murder hit
Two niggas hoppin' off in the drop-top straight servin' shit, so fools
Break yourself, crack mines off or get dealt with
AK cocked, one pop will make your belt rip
I'm in it to win and can't no niggas get away from the murder one jack
And we out to get somethin', so it's best you ride around with your strap

[Chorus: C-Bo & Master P]
Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat
Bo and Master P down to rat-tat-tat-tat
Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat
Bo and Master P down to rat-tat-tat-tat

[Verse 3: Master P]
Dope in the car, they let the dogs loose to hound me
I'm headin' for the county, a hundred Gs for my fuckin' bounty
'Cause I'm a killer with no heart
Mass-murderin' fools, 'bout to amputate they body parts
Like Jeffrey Dahmer, that ain't no drama
So here's your ghetto pass, a one-way ticket to the Bahamas
Ain't no love, bitch, I thought you knew me
I sleep with this ho and them thirty-two kids, a nickel-plated Uzi
Master P and Bo is headed for that big jack
Moving'll get your face cracked, infrared to your back
Should I shoot? Get him for his loot?
No, wait, I might get him for the whole motherfuckin' scoop, haha
Shoot em' up bang-bang, gotta let my nuts hang
Lettin' off rounds out my candy-painted Mustang
Hit a lick for some snow and did a drive-by
Sliced it up and slanged it up on the set like some Muslim bean pies
Hit the highway with Bo back to the 916
Left the 510 'cause we gon' double it up into twenty-six
Bumpin' 2Pac, motherfuckin' Thug Life
And reminicin' on our dead homies all fuckin' night
It was a drought, so we crawdad (What?)
I mean upped the price, 'cause this shit was movin' too fuckin' fast
Gats cocked for the jackers
Rollin' with the shotguns, got this hoochie in the back talkin' shit, I just might smack her (Shut up)
Pull over sideways, had to let the top down (Top down)
Dank comin' out the car like steam comin' out the ground
Now we on our way to Burbank
To the 213 and like B-Legit say, it's gon' take three tanks
So pull this motherfuckin' hog to the fillin' station
Stopped at The Grapevine, seen this fool slippin' on triple-gold Daytons

[Chorus: C-Bo & Master P]
Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat
Bo and Master P down to rat-tat-tat-tat
Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat
Bo and Master P down to rat-tat-tat-tat

[Verse 4: C-Bo]
Doors down, got an extra clip for the HK, fifteen rounds
'Drenaline pumpin' as I lay everybody face down
Should I kill them? No, fill the bag
He had more cash stashed off in the drop Jag
Slammed his hands in the door, torture will make him speak
Cocked my hammer, jammed my barrel through his fuckin' teeth (Boom)
Got him coughin' up, pissin' blood
'Cause the ballin'-ass nigga didn't show no love
Nigga, motherfuckers be gettin' they head twisted
Your best homeboy done turned into a rat-snitch bitch (Sucka)
Got you jacked, slapped, caught up in rat pack
By some niggas in all black in some fake D.A. hats
Jumpin' out in rent-a-cars up on your front yard
Runnin' through your front door holdin' on a four-four
Yellin', "Jack time," crack mines, I stack mines
And put this shit on record, 'cause I can back mines

[Chorus: C-Bo & Master P, Master P]
Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat
Bo and Master P down to rat-tat-tat-tat
Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat
Bo and Master P down to rat-tat-tat-tat (Yeah, mayne)

[Outro: C-Bo & Master P, Master P]
Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat (This is somethin' for you hoo-riders)
Bo and Master P down to rat-tat-tat-tat (You know what I'm sayin'? Master P and C-Bo)
Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat (Down for that rat-tat-tat-tat)
Bo and Master P down to rat-tat-tat-tat (You know what I'm sayin'? You got to be strapped, boy)
Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat (No Limit Records, fool)
Bo and Master P down to rat-tat-tat-tat (This a West Coast thing)
Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat
Bo and Master P down to rat-tat-tat-tat
Headin' for the jack, strapped with the fat gat