Redman, red van
(Ayo, Bans, what you cookin'?)
Redman, murder man
Servin' bands, outta Xans
(Ayy, pull up Lamb')
Man down, oh

I ain't get a chance to tell you I love you, I'm tellin' you I love you now
And you gotta ride with your gun every time you outside in the Chi'
You ain't never had that feelin' in your stomach you gon' die
Don't too many niggas send money to that jail so I try
I know a nigga died with a name, couple of his niggas still ain't slide
All these niggas sayin' they gang, they ain't even did shit for the guys
Same way that Pluto died, we gon' do the same shit to the Y
Gotta eat, bitch I trust, went in my pants took some cash
How you know a nigga from your hood told you ain't try to put him on blast?
Man, Terry died in his sleep off fake Percs, I know mans
They come around 'bout bodies, gotta go blame niggas who dead (shh)
That same day my cousin died, I couldn't tame it with meds
They asked me where I'ma be in ten years, shit, I said, "The feds"
They asked me what I'ma do 'bout Krump, shit, he dead
I went to the emergency room and I seen Pluto on that bed
And they ain't gon' repeat that shit I said in my head, dead man

Redman, murder man
Homicide, red van
Shots fired, headband
Man down, man down

Shots fired, watch the homicide, ayy, ayy
Shots fired, that's a homicide, yeah, yeah
Shots fired, that's a homicide, yeah, yeah
Shots fired, that's a homicide, yeah, yeah

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Writer(s): Durk Banks, John Lamb, Leonardo Soares Mateus, Malik Bynoe-Fisher