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lousy human bastards! - open season lyrics

[verse 1: jabbar]
the jig is up
i got the smoking gun on everybody, look how every shot i hit is clutch
i could never stop or get enough
cause anything i do is either new edition or the shit deluxe
nigga hold your tongue or get the f-ck
cause anytime they open up they mouth another one just hit the dust
if you lyin’ i begin to hunt
might i remind you if you try to slide ain’t nobody slick as us
them boys ducks i should get ’em stuffed and plucked off
just for fun, just because i can’t rock with you punks
we the ones you can’t sit amongst
oh you the shit huh? okay, i could lift a thumb and get you flushed
they want a mill’ but i want 50 plus
i’ma f-ck the game ’til it bust, then disappear for months
don’t try to diss, them nola k!llers still in touch
how you gon’ come at a big dog when you niggas runts?

[verse 2: seawright]
these niggas must be missing’ sumn, the f-ck you think they get it from?
did this once before and we settled matters with fisticuffs
but hurry ‘fore you miss the fun, we gon’ need some bigger guns
our finger on the trigger for the years to come
either i’m the best or you trippin’, we not impressed by you simpletons
just spent my stipend i might regret that shit by the end of this but
patricia got my reinvesting my dividends
leave some bread at the crib she the reason my checks are triplin’ dog
vince still armed like full metal
slick talk and big charms man y’all can do better
who let ’em, i feel sorry i guess they too pressured
ooh they sparked the fuse, we gon’ blow in a few seconds
took shots, sent ’em back, this uzi a ton
now i got the camp waiting for you to respond
they say i’m prone to lead a stage, i’m aiming and shooting for stars
true enough, pacing thinking “maybe i’m foolish for trying”
(caesar)

[verse 3: ugly frank]
livin’ cooler than your average
counting’ cabbage local motive mental
tap into a triple way dimension when i’m stackin’
keep the burner on me, i be iffy when i travel
case a nigga try to hem me up and stick me for the package
move a motorbike
heavy-weighted, nickel-plated four pounder
hit you with the banger like i’m triple h
this shit is kinda tricky ain’t it? i push the aqua-colored bimmer
see the b-tches wavin’, but irregardless i’m a demon
i be mobbin’ through yo’ hood with a 40 gallon of molly
it’s obvy i wanna party, i’m potty
swear to god that my inner-body just jumped out my outer-body my bodies just took a b-tch to the room and karate chopped her
i chopped down a tree and built me a village
of gritty-minded and villainous niggas who give a f-ck
and will push your wig to the front (look)
we breaking in and b-tch we breaking what we want (look)
don’t make me angry b-tch you know that you in danger
i’ll be on my merry way after showing me where the safe is
ipads, p-ssports, heirlooms, bracelets
brace yourself the niggas who with me awful abrasive
they famous for leakin’ niggas for nothing and creasing braces
i’m famous for taking b-tches
f-cking ’em ’til they tits starts sagging
i crush her heart and i run her purse on the daily
i’m p-ssively aggressive i often p-ss on the sess
cause i’d rather f-ck with the niggas who pay me, quite frankly
(franklin)

- lousy human bastards lyrics

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