All these hittas, be staring me down

All these hittas Staring me down, they all looking bitter If they try to take me out They'll get lit up By my .45 cal My brass case litter Will hit the ground All these hittas Staring me down, looking bitter If they try to take me out They'll get lit up By my .45 cal My brass case litter Will hit the ground They be driving around Looking like pissed off clowns Ain't none of em tryna throw down Cause somehow Way deep down They know they'll end up in tuxedo gown Laying in a pine box To be buried in the ground At a run down cemetery in their town If they ever make me sound My loud .45 pow, pow, pow! They'll be deader than a cow Slaughtered and butchered In your local meat isle I just raise the sights to my brow Squeeze the trigger, 3 Lbs And release my 230 grain hounds Always aiming for their mouths One shot take downs Double taps make it count I don't fuck around Can't nobody take my crown They always shit their pants brown Right after the death rattle sound In the last breath they breathe out Eyes wide open Without a soul, no doubt! Just another op, down for the count All these hittas Staring me down, looking bitter If they try to take me out They'll get lit up By my .45 cal My brass case litter Will hit the ground All these hittas Staring me down, looking bitter If they try to take me out They'll get lit up By my .45 cal My brass case litter Will hit the ground