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Artist: C-Bo f/ Ampichino
Album:  The Mobfather 2
Song:   Killa Confession
Typed by: Lil Hustle

[C-Bo]
12 gauge sawed off, hit you like Ricky
In a fo' do' Caprice fo' deep, blowing that sticky
Get in my path, and get rolled on
Even your bitch get stole on, then we take your bitch ass to stroll on
Menace to society, cocaine provide me
Bullets in my gun, to protect this money by the ton
I'm America's nightmare, with birds in the kitchen
And my killers is right here, and they perving and tripping
Catch em swerving and dipping, and riders with a grip on the weapon
Enemies catch you slipping, pull the heat out and wet em
It ain't no passes, in this war zone
And it ain't no paper getting made, lose your life trying to get paid when the war's on
Body bags and toe tags, it's closed caskets
In the river with duct tape, rolled in plastic
The murder that we writ, is just another lesson
But this time you're a witness, to a killer's confession

[Chorus - 2x]
Chopper full of hollow points, on a mission for bread
We empty the ammunition, till the competition is dead
This is my killer's confession
Be a witness to my profession, as I ride with aggression

[Ampichino]
G'eah, I slide with a weapon
Towards wet fuck, nigga died in the intersection
This a killer confession
Cause if I ever get caught, my niggaz killing and that was killer's respected
Dealers beheaded, hanging on phone poles naked
Reckless, you can go at any second
Niggaz get murdered before breakfast
Ain't no half stepping, in danger we blast weapons
I'm famous for cash getting, don't have feelings for bitches
My past dealers relentless, these are killer intentions
The penitentiary packed, with niggaz that ain't coming back
At the age 13, I start dealing crack
Back to back in Lacs, still dealing packs
I interact with niggaz, living in the trap
From the Sac' to the Ac', get blaa with the mac
Me and Bo in a Regal, getting to the scratch

[Chorus - 2x]

[C-Bo]
Cali to Arizona, Denver to Oklahoma
Dallas to Kansas City, cause there for you in a coma
Got killers off in Ohio, Minnesota and Atlanta
Detroit to Florida, come get you with them bananas
You a dead man walking, sweep em under the rug
Body dropped to the pavement, the homies done pulled the plug
It ain't no love, for you queer niggaz
Pillow talking to feds like a bitch, it's nothing but slugs for you here nigga
No phone call, send a fax with your face on it
Your mother's address, with a picture of the place on it
Reaper on the prowl now
He in that rental with the chopper triggers filed down, oh yeah you dead now
Pray to your Lord, and repent for the mistakes you made
Hoping your life is heaven sent, before you take the blade
Know that this murder that he writ, is just another lesson
But this time you a witness, to a killer's confession...