Artist: Timbo King f/ Gutterman, Self Rachet
Album:  56 Platoon, Vol. 1
Song:   Juuk Something
Typed by: Tha Masta

[Intro: Self Rachet (Gutterman)]
Yo Gutterman, you seen that tape and shit?
(Yo that's who is this right here?)
Aight, you got the vests and the rachets, right?
(Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got all of that)
You know, I'll call City right now, for a minute (Aight)
{*phone rings*}

[Self Rachet]
Let's go, buckle up, nigga, I'm ready to ride
I got roadies in the whip, nigga, ready to fry
We'll meet you there, over there, at a quarter to five
I'll mix the haze with the blacks, nigga, I'm tryin' to get high
There's like three niggaz over there, two heaters
They gonna need a lifeline, better call Regis
We gon' park up to a point where they can't see us
Remember, all black ratchets, no bling blingers
Click thorough, no R&B lead singers
I'm gonna hop out first, you take as long as this verse
And then you hop out too, nigga, you know what to do
In like five-six seconds, call up team two
We got Nikki's upstairs, lookin' pretty and cute
She gon' knock for duke, he think he knocked the boots
We knock knockin' for loot, bricks, jewels and tools
Recka done pity the fool who denied us food
Punishment be cruel, and unusual
We right on time, five o'clock prime time
As I walk up the stairs, who there naked right there
I coulda tried behind, cuz she switched to the rear
Let's give it a couple of seconds, wait for the crew right here
She knocked as plans, all I heard was loud music, him and his man
He came mumblin' somethin', fuck it, it ain't really nothin'
When he opened up the door, we wrestled like fans at the Maccabee tour
Team two rushed in like guerillas at war, nigga, face the floor
What's the combo to the safe plus the weed and the raw?
My guns is like Little Shop of Horror
A nigga screamed out "Kill me, nigga", I replied "Why bother?"
Catch me MIA, Miami, Florida
Sunday, I'll be back for Juve, ya wack
Give me fifty feet or 56 gon' clap {*phone rings*}

[Interlude: Gutterman (Self Rachet)]
Yo (What's good, my ninja?) What's good? What's good?
(Yo I just got off the phone with City and 'em
and some other shit poppin', you fuckin' wit it?)
Son, am I fuckin' wit it?

[Gutterman]
Let's go, 6:56, I got the call from Rachet
Green light, we could run up in the bank and snatch it
Jump up and grab the mask, and burners and the red beams
A couple minutes, we rollin' up in front the scene
Cock back the gats, slide up in the bank door
And lick a shot "Everybody hit the fuckin' floor!"
Grab security, let 'em know the shit is real
Clack clack, he didn't listen, so we had to feel
The blue tips in my clips are into complications
So now we searchin' for the man with the combination
No hesitation, I'm movin' quick and smellin' fear
I hit the back, "Son, yo you hold it down here"
Shout out to glab, grey suit, he made a dash
Started to blast his ass but thought about the cash
Grabbed his collar and them him to the deck, next
I put the tech to his neck, so yo he couldn't flex
Interrogation, gun butts'll make him talk
The information, leaks out without a thought
And now I'm strapped, three sacks on my back
I held it down though, maintained the aim of my gat
"Self, grab one", now a nigga holdin' on two
Finger lickin', no sinnin', nigga, bustin' at you

[Timbo King]
56, B.V.I., Bo, yeah (let's go)
We take cargo, run up in Wells Fargo
Anywhere my gun go, I go, the street lotto
Rob museums, the Black Marvin BM's
Stick up kids with pensions
We don't come in the front, we walk through kitchens
In the club full of bitches that fuck with bitches
Yeah, it's ya money or ya life, the bullet or the knife (which one you
gon' choose?)
If I had twenty-four hundred hours left, I'm goin' AWOL
Assassinate Bloomberg first, for city layoffs
Then go slash John Pope's throat for even seance
Burn down Viacom's files, no more playoffs
Kidnap the President's daughter without a plan
And hang the grand wizard from the Klu Klux Klan
Go piss on Elvis' grave like, "Fuck you, cracker
This for Chuck Barry, Little Richard, cracker"
Run up in Langley with explosives on me
This is my last day, get a close up on me (yeah)
Get a close up on me (take ya shots now)
Yeah, B.V.I., 56...