Tekstovi: Fatal Hussein. In The Line Of Fire. Intro.

[After about a minute of mixing]
[Bomb explosions, gun shots]

(You know what you be?)

[Fatal]
You be like the type that come at me
And shoot one at me,
Tryna set it,
Then get another nigga to dead it
Outlaws we 'trol heat
Ya cold feet remain frozen
As Hussein show thieves
That got our own name stolen
I'm Hussein,
Flyin' down 95 in two lanes
Wearin' fitted and blue chain
The one out of these two thangs
Hustle or be hustled,
Tussle and these tough
They sheaths hunt you down
When you around and ya knees buckle
Popped up, whopped up, glock cocked up
An' got ya cop shot up,
Came to shook shop up
I took money, gave 'em horror
Recruit crooks for me
Keep my finger on strap,
'Til the gat looked ugly
I mash fast illy
G-packers get bagged silly
We pack mac millis
You know the science for that
These niggas tryna rap
When I spit it like I'm committed
Wid triple and double digits
Bag whatever bubble wid it
All y'all gon' do is be talkin' while I walk
Wid the war you ball way
Either way you playin' ya partner
Watch me bop down ya block
Wid my suit and chocolates
On some Deathrow Pac shit
Outlaw Khadaf shit, I got this,
I let you know you playin' yourself
Ain't seein' a damn bit ah coke
You might be bangin' yaself
Talk that crew shit,
I'm knowin' already who ain't gon' do shit,
Pack one nasty new wid, a lil' bit of blue shit
Confucious, run deep from Jerz,
Right off clue shit
Makaveli shit still bangin'
Y'all shoulda knew this

Y'all niggas gon' ride or die