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Master P Presents: West Coast Bad Boyz: Poppin’ Collars
01. Pop Lockin’ II
02. It’s On
03. Sick
04. Know About It
05. We Duez It Big
06. We Bust
07. What Y’all Want
08. Matrix
09. Hater Aid
10. It’s Official
11. Came Around
12. Family Ties
13. Poppin’ Them Collars
14. Nobody
15. Final Outcome
16. Last Night
Last night, last night, last night, last night, last night... (it was)
Last night, last night, last night, last night, last night... (it was)
Last night, last night, last night, last night, last night... (it was)
Last night, last night, last night, last night, last night... (it was)

And I'm off the O.E., you know me I'm in the function fucked up
Sacramento wine in my guts, think I can feel it when it cut
Lookin' at these niggas around me
Hatred surround me like bees to honey
I wouldn't be thinkin' like this, but
The O.E. got me plus I need some money

So two slugs in the chest in front of
Everybody there (Put your hands in the air!)
Till I leave this place better act like you care
'Bout your life, disappear in the night, through tire smoke
You know that's right, outta sight like George Clooney, you need hope
Waddle or soak, cause you all bloody, and it's all lovely

Turnin' humans into meat and rubbish, it's not thuggish
It's more like mafia lifestyle, killin', run up and grab you
And stab you all up in the throat, that's all she wrote
Where was that?

Last night, last night, last night, last night
Last night... (the streets were melting again)
Last night, last night, last night, last night
Last night... (niggas was dancing insane)
Last night, last night, last night, last night
Last night... (the smoke was thick in the air)
Last night, last night, last night, last night
Last night... (the murder's in the city you see)

They caught us both in the bed bucked necked
But under the pillow was the killa muff so I wasn't sweatin' it
Gotta stay real enough
He snatched you out the bed and took you straight downstairs
I got out the bed and got my strap and put it in the small of my back

Heard y'all yellin' and fightin', shit let me check this clip

Shit I hope this nigga don't wanna trip, have to make this hit

I mean hurt, I make it work like a Stockton Boulevard hoe
Take your love for your dough, dig you a hole in your flow
I was walkin' downstairs that nigga had you up by the neck
She was like "you gon' help?" "Ah you
Punk ass bitch you don't get no respect!"
I'mma get my four-oh, and I'm out the door-oh
Until you tell that nigga what's up, bitch don't hit me no mo-oh
It could be a murder show-oh, starring me co-starring you

Don't mean to fuck it up at the end but you died too
Cause bad guys get away in my eyes cause we always right
We put 'em in baskets I swear we had they whole fuckin' family cryin'
Where was that? Last night
When I hit your phone I knew you was home I got mines on last night
Pulled up in the Brougham pulled out the
Chrome and went in your home last night

Came in all alone put one in your dome
In the morning you was gone last night
Which flash light, I put you in the past life

I touch the streets daily, for the gravy, nobody can fade me
I'm a headhunter hunter killa bread hunter, spittin' out rabies
And if it wasn't for my babies I'd be crazy as fuck
And I only got a couple homies I trust
I'm all fucked up in the head thinkin' about using this
And feel like I'm a dead man walkin'

And still I can tread that thin line between dead and walkin'
With some shackles I'm on the back
Road, on the phone straight plottin'

With one of the only homies I could trust
We got the chainsaws and the ziplock ziplock
And we hit blocks and ditch cops with the patterns we move
Rotate like Saturns and lose, niggas on the heels of our shoes

Put 'em in the trunk to rot with the skunk weed
He was all bleedin' last night
He was a punk nobody gon' need him that's right, what you wanna do?

Yo nigga, I got the plug on the perfect spot

To dump that body and spot the rocks
And I swear no one gon' find 'em down here
It's in the cuts, trust me I dumped a couple bodies down here

Just say it's a big lake, past a small gate
And you'll think no one been here for years
I come prepared, remember they call me Mr. No Print
Mr. Never Leave No Clues, when I do what the fuck I do's
I cover shoe prints, and any evidence of the type
So that clo-clo can't trace either one of us to that spot last night
Cause last night, we was at our spot, makin' music
So fuck what they yellin', cause we got this here to prove it

So meet me in a minute, with that dead body so we can move it

Tie the rapper in plastic, weigh it down and then lose it
Cause man there really ain't nothin' to it
Shit I'm down at the docks (Nigga which docks?)
You know the ones, the older docks
The ones where we ditched that first gun?
(Oh them docks)
Yes, come on try to hurry, cause time's precious
And plus that bitch keep on callin'
Me, but I just ain't check the messages
(I'll be there)

It was a story, of love loyalty and betrayal
Hoes bein' sluts, seen the whole setup but still didn't give a fuck
Jealously murders tales that happen unheard of
You can't account for, in the heat of the night
This is some previews of Lynch By Inch, comin' 2002
This was the episode, brought to you by
Sick films, Sickmade music, incorporated
Featurin' C.O.S., and Tall Can G
Ya heard me?