Mortuary Number - Cellski, Black C, Mr. C

See, I’m like 2Took

All over niggas look

When I be posted

Some niggas walk through in a drop stain

Like muggin, gettin toasted

See we like slittin the cust or grab the gats

While them marks walk through

See Harvard’s a dead ass street

So we will like have to bust at you and uh

I think them marks are down the way-way

So bay-bay

Start bussin caps for the grave homies in jay-jay

It must have been a lucky day

That 351 was out there barkin

They got away clean and smooth while my niggas was steady sparkin, see

I know the drama’s gone be on

I phone, to my brother Took cause he the backbone

He be like organizing the violence that take place up on this blocc

You fuck around with this posse, you might wind up gettin glocked

GiggityGlock, I’m on the blocc

Labeled the loccsta

Posted on the side of a house just like a poster

I’m ready to die for seven digits

And see if you can get it

Cause tonight, it’s life is shorter than a midget

(Black C)

I put the mortiary number up on his pager

(Mister C)

Don’t fuck with me!

(Hitman)

Well, creepy creepy, here I come

Now, it’s time to muzzle them niggas with the G-L-O-C-K

Waiting for that payday

So now it’s time to get my squad and rush up in his market

And if you notice an enemy, we spot it as a target

Grab my (?)

Hittin it, splittin it

Sucka ass niggas is prohibited

Get with this

Cause if you runnin up mane, you’re just bound to get mistreated

Battered and beated, lie down like (?)

Cause suckas be tryina play

It’s time to huff and puff

I’mma shoot about, tapin (?)

Cause one little pinky got away, that means it’s bout 7 days

It’s time to put the code on his pager

And let him know it’s major

(Black C)

I put the mortiary number up on his pager

(Mister C)

Don’t fuck with me!

(Mister C)

Well it’s about time I school niggas like?

Deep fry that?

like some freshly made?

You know you can’t fuck with this gang

I’m like some clothes without no hanger

Boy, you know you can’t hang so, uhm

Act like you knew

You should have been a???

And no, you can’t put no salt on this Frisco pimpin???

Just give me a fuckin toolbox cause I lost all my screws

My last name is Church so it’s time for you to pay your sunday dues

And if you don’t, fool this show ain’t no hope

My breath don’t stank

But yes, I got the scope

Point it at your dome

Here in '94

I’m runnin around, walkin up to niggas just like they was???

So you don’t have to get the yellow pages

Cause I left that mortiary number in your fucking pager

(Black C)

I put the mortiary number up on his pager

(Mister C)

Don’t fuck with me!

(Cellski A.K.A. 2Took)

In my backyard, it’s a gang of bodies that’s buried

When you walk in my backyard, you walkin on the cemetery

When I was born, I was born on the 13th

My best friend was Freddy, yo, we used to live on Elm Street

Back when I was young

About ten years old

Jim Jones was my idol cause he took alot of souls

Now that I’m older, I got alot of cis

No fingerprints to be found and not a lick of evidence

Playin out the murder before I heard another victim

Pulled the lick before I stick him on the ground

That’s when I kick em

Leave em dead or dying with his eyes open wide

Get some dank and go high to get my mind of the homicide

Turned on the news to see what they was sayin

They said The Taker struck again for his twelft straight slayin

Because the nigga got played like Sega

So I hooked the mortiary number up on his pager

(Black C)

I put the mortiary number up on his pager

(Mister C)

Don’t fuck with me!

Don’t fuck with me!