Woodie - The Clock Is Tickin'

rate me


Bullets fly

Quicker than the eyes

You was hittin' Mary-Jane

To ease the pain

Your homie died

Muthafucka I'm a ride

To the rallies on steel

I'm in the bushes camouflage

Ain't thinkin' 'bout no clientele

If I fail I'll rot in jail

And if I succeed

I'll burn in hell

So either way I'm fucked in these streets

The Bible says I live my life rough

Statistics say I'll die young

I can't disagree cuz I'm a

Fuckin' walkin' time bomb

The clock is tickin'

Finger's itchin'

To unleash a piece

Some 32 empty homies

That are dyin' to beat

The [?] flesh you wanna kill me

Sucka really

Ya'll the type that pull your strap

And shoot holes in the ceiling

And I get out for killin'

Sucka give it up

With your strap beside and ride

To the club and live it up

[Chorus x3]

Out to the cuts

The clock is tickin'

Finger's itchin'

In the bushes camouflaged

Waiting for my victim


I never thought that I would live

To see the age of 21

I grew up paranoid

When I often sleepin' with my gun

50 dollars by my purse

Strap a sawed off one shot gauge

Since the a day I lay the blaze

I was stuck in evil ways

In amaze

At the power that it could devour

Strip that O.G. from his reputation

In the late night hour

Show shower let the situation sour funk

But ain't no stoppin' the poppin'

That gets the droppin' these pumps

I found my callin' and I

Hooked up with some natural born killas

Preferrin' 45 calibur's over 9 miler's

Survivals of the peelas

So I creep precaution

Steppin' out his skeleton

An I'm red chucks flossin', hoggin'

I'll be that muthafucka that you hate

Cuz you know I'll take that clip and

Slap it in and test your fate

And demonstrate the Yoc influenced

State of mind that I'm stuck

I'll be committin' sins wit a devilish grin

I gives a fuck

[Chorus x4]


Creepin', crawlin'

Strap not fallin'

But got a box of ammo

For the weapon that I'm haulin'

The streets are callin'

So I'm comin' with artillery

And chucks and khakis

As I move up on my enemies

A pedigree soldier

Yeah that's were the foul

Northern Cal profile

Nothin' less I confess

I'm a sinner

But how can I show remorse

Cuz I can't afford to let the Bible

Throw me off course

I'm known to rivals

When I gotta make these

Sucka's skull crack

It could be better than

Havin' my chips and a yacht

And bet the whole stack

Do or die

Make these muthafuckas understand

That they're tryin' to touch

A particle that they can't comprehend

Can't pretend to be a soldier

When your a punk

Cuz it'll hold ya

Hog tied in the trunk

And name one chump

Run your mouth

And now your bent up like a slut

Should have kept your pistol cocked

Fuckin' with this Yoc murderer

[Chorus x4]

Out to the cuts [echoes out]

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