- Votes:
- Composers:
- De Vit
- Mijk/harris
- John Dean/beatcounter
- -
 
- See also:
Fiend - On A Mission lyrics
[c-murder talking]
 You know you done fucked up? 
 You know you done fucked up, don't ya? 
 Nigga you really fucked up.
 We on a muthafuckin mission.
 I'm ridin dirty with my tru muthafuckas.
 Fiend, steady mobbin', c-murder in this bitch.
 Retaliation is a must.
 Dumpin rounds on my muthafuckin adversaries.
 [c-murder]
 Nigga, nigga ridin dirty for revenge
 With my friends, I'm on a caper
 Ready to kill 'em, if I see 'em
 Fuck alarm, hold my paper
 I'm a rider, so I leave 'em where I left 'em
 When I creep, niggas sleep
 And they ain't restin til they deep up in the concrete
 Jungle with them slangers, with them bangers and them hustlers
 With them killers, smokin woo and makin deals with my tru niggas
 Fiend had some yay, so we flipped it on the block
 Steady mobbin' flew from cali so we put 'em up on the spot
 Servin dub sacks and flippers, fifty shots and quarter bags
 Raisin riches no matter week, servin keys out paper bags
 And hustlin hard, countin money by the sack
 Watch my back, niggas jack
 Sweet revenge, counter attack up in my 'lac
 Sippin hennesy and chronic, I'm the tweak for some magic
 Rollin the window, nigga, it's him so pistol playin bout to have it
 Fuckin bullets gots no name nigga you name is on this one
 Ridin dirty with my tru bitches so nigga on a mission
 [chorus:] (lines echo in background) x 4
 In on a mission, ridin dirty with my tru thugs
 Retaliation, dumpin rounds, with no love
 [fiend]
 Fiend, my reason to gunplay
 Loadin my chopper right up the one way
 Wishin we facin a dead end
 So I could show how this gun spray
 Just one damn word, that's all I desire
 So I could bend these niggas back like chicken wire
 Spittin fire, mobbin, s'on when them bullets get to pourin
 (..? ..) get my adrenalin goinFiend - On A Mission - http://motolyrics.com/fiend/on-a-mission-lyrics.html
 I ain't ignorin, no problems, no worries baby
I severed the crusher, and buried my (..? ..)
 Over the dresser, fiend the trigga my lesser
 Gon test ya, with a season to kill
 And catch me celebratin across the battlefield
 Loco, this is the deal, let's put the gun
 To the small of his neck, we got caught up and blast
 Until there's nothing left, boy
 I thought some more niggas kept, what? what? 
 Cause I ain't facin prison
 Exercising my right to exorcism
 Completed my mission, huh? 
 By lettin the land just listen
 Cause they the reason my lil homie ain't livin
 So, we on a mission
Chorus x 4
 [steady mobbin' 1]
 (..? ..) the cleaner, alias saddam, nigga
 (what's up there? ) cold cop killers
 Now it's really on (what's up fool? )
 Being crooked, we do it dirty, (we doing it!)
 C-murder and fiend (there they go!)
 We dump the fifty round magazine
 Locin and mobbin, til it's clean (make sure it's clean)
 Hooked up with the colonel, and the billy, cause I need cream
 Fifteen five, made twenty five, six hummer size (nigga!)
 Muthafuckas died, (nigga!) all in one night (they die!)
 [steady mobbin' 2] (a lot of these lines are overlapped by screams,
 Gunshots, etc. hard to understand...)
 Pulled the trigga on my nigga (not my nigga, damn!)
 As the forty caliber shell, blew up in the neck
 Twice in the head, he was dead 'fore his body hit the ground
 (damn dog, don't go nigga!)
 Bitches scream, nigga (..? ..)
 Pull up next to the bodies, I was runnin
 My dog's head was blew off
 I'm bustin hella (? ) (buck, buck, buck)
 Hit the driver's side window, as they crash into a pole
 (..? ..), with a few left in the clip
 Some for the driver, the passenger
 And the rest of the trigger men










