H.C.P (Frayser Boy)

Yeah, H.C.P. Defeat does not exist in this Camp Do you hear me it's goin down Yhe niggaz who's sellin for real Ya boys hurtin out there man I see your sound scans we killin you baby And we gon keep bringing this pain and this motherfuckin bump in your motherfuckin speakers See I'm the number one killa for these bitch ass niggaz Got guns got rope for a bitch ass nigga Plastic bags, duck tape for a bitch ass nigga Stolen cars, sellin hoes for a bitch ass nigga S K's, double clips for a bitch ass nigga 40 cal. on the hip for a bitch ass nigga Ridin Benz's shootin at you old bitch ass nigga Hypnotize we allergic to a bitch ass nigga Niggaz wanna talk shit you a kid to me I'll f**k you up, real dog, its some killas with me In the end you won't see me, just wait for my calls Ill ride by shoot your momma's house up and all And leave a motherfucker bleedin on the carpet Walk right up to your bedroom window and don't stop it Nigga you started, I won't when I brought you back Momma dead in the Lexus, when you look back Hold up my nigga This is danger you is facing Ima crank the fuckin chain saw And cut you like Jason Aint wastin no time Ima go on head and let my smith and wesson Gone shine my nigga, yall be hatin Aint no hatin on me dog Ima leave you layin in the motherfuckin street dog Now catch this heat yall, lock it and release yall I'm just tryin to keep some mutherfuckin peace dog Yall Testin me People always asking bout Project Pat Did he get ten years, or did he time go flat Well ima tell you like this, its a baller battle Try to prosecute a nigga, probably taller than Shaq Me and my brother been down, since the days a rap Hangin out Cypress Garden tryin to sell the crack Can't no money or no bitch can relate to that Throught he good and the bad ima have his back So ima tell you young niggaz in the streets today That be standing on the block, smoke chokin that hay The Police, Prosecutors are the enemies Dont get caught up in that cross yo decsion you make If I could turn back the hands of time, I would And tell my big brother the gun ain't no good He got one strike a felon, thats good Its the heavyweight Champion chip of rap I hope you did all your sit ups and ran your laps Cause I'm ready for the whole damn ten round bout Throw a jab left, up, right, to the map And I don't think your boys gonna help you this time Cause you done fucked around with the roll down kind Got get a bump and grind gotta bump me the pine Gotta nine to your spine, yo I gotta get mine With that in mind, yo for what I am highly trained Insane mane, and I gotta very good aim So bring yo bandaids and your pain killers We foe killer, type of niggaz Best believe we keepin you injured Even worse then you in pictures So get buck if you really think you want to Best believe Lord is gonna come back and haunt you Calls it quits when you talk cause you spoke my name Gotta switch when you walk, lookin like you a dame Lil Wyte, yeah I rocked it when I entered the game Cause Ima hussler on my bumpin for my fortune and fame And its a blessin, not a question, being part of this Camp Learn a lessin from this blessin you can't f**k with this Fam' Youll come up missin when you glisten your lil wrist I'm not dissin Until the center of attention, and your momma you listenin And I'm the one bringing thunder to this sky you wonder Fuck around wit a mugger and Ill then make you wonder What happened to this little craker it was just marijuana His shoes just got a little bigger, I just gonna warn you That he was creepin from the slab, where the gat is packed Pull a Cop killer bullets that'll pierce your back I tried to save your soul and plus state the facts But still bitch made motherfucker's get laid flat Muthafucker cock sucker you don't want none of this Bitch pull a trigger tell a nigga fuckin wit this shit HCP best believe, bring the motherfuckin pain Clickin on you, hittin on you, we ain't playin no games Fuck you off, we the boss, got the city on lock Glock my side, time of ride, Got the sawed bitch cocked Wit a nigga makin moves, in this fuckin rap shit Trigger pull it, get a bullet, cause you know I'm strapped bitch Know a bunch of niggaz some real, some fake, some hate, Some trake So I get them bitches out the way Dont you test, be my guess, We gone bust the steal Nigga one less, shoot less, tone to the head feel Nigga what you wanna do dog Bring the shit to the fan Every stressin, got you goin down like quick sand Frayser Boy, Rep of course, find me in the fuckin Bay Slangin work, doin dirt, quickin wit the AK Pass the gat and lets ride Lord is in your house best go hide Crunchy gon smack you cross the head wit the Tone Juicy the type nigga you best leave lone Paul ain't gone talk at all he gon blast Fuckin wit this click you bitch you won't last Much love to my nigga Pat and thats real Lil Wyte reppin Bay with me don't get killed