[Chorus: Dom Pachino]
Make 'em bleed, stumbling while they running
Got them big $$# slugs that be humming

Make 'em bleed, no one around to help ya
Got them big $$# cannons that'll melt ya
Make 'em bleed...


[Dom Pachino]
By the baker's zone, you faking cousin

Your faith is nothing, I make 'em bleed, make 'em bleed
Like a new born seed, true indeed
No matter race, color or creed, I make 'em bleed

Leave the barrel smoking like weed
Eat your food like a sesame seed, bun
My gun, real chunky, I dare a ^!$$% try and punk me

Like ach said, you wanna run with me?
Empty a clip, you won't get done with me
I spit %#@! for ^!$$%s that be in the slum with me

And my dun-duns, that sold a jum with me
Got to come with me, out the country
I've been places and seen things and seen different faces

Shootouts and parking lots, and high speed chases
^!$$%s getting hit up, suicide with shoelaces
(*##$es getting up, fat $$# with a thin waste

Remember there's, nothing sweeter than the taste

[Chorus]


[Dom Pachino]
I catch 'em off guard, suprise, right between they eyes

Make 'em bleed, make 'em bleed, til they feel they gon' die
I'm adament about these savages, they like !@$)gots
Think it's time for them to eat the maggots, they're new address

Is Potersfield, they spot is filled, they seen a nine
They start to yield, then cat is peeled
Make 'em bleed, cuz they wasn't smart enough to wear they shield

They so fake, they start to shake when they see the real
Next take, lock and load, always hold a steel
Just got a thought that gave me a chill

Make 'em bleed all over the streets, stomp 'em out
Blood all over my cleets, I make 'em bleed out loud
Or silence and discrete... *gunshots*


[Chorus]


[Dom Pachino]
Straight off the block with gorillas and killas, drug dealers
Feel it's the realest %#@!, so bare wit', and let the snake kick

The kid you can't compare with, see black like Blair Witch
Poly with alligators in a swamp full of fish
I'm a go getter, gun under the sweater

Wanting more better, for my career endouver
Sever any head, I must, spit fire, smoke ya $$# like dust
Now you never to $#&@ with us

It's Napalm, the grenade arm brigata
Got %#@! for the streets, got a shipment of product
Plus I'm psychotic, smoke herbs to calm my nerves

Got (*##$es in the P's, got (*##$es in the 'burbs
Come on, one day in the life'll have you bugging
We be straight thugging, cousin, you thought we wasn't?


[Chorus]


[Outro: Dom Pachino]
Yeah, ya'll ^!$$%s thought I was playing?
Aiyo, Rock, go get the whip...

He just turned the corner, follow him up the block...