One Spot Deal Lyrics - Beanie Sigel

One shot deal, one shot one kill 

Hit you with the one shot skill 

Bullets lift you up like you poppin on the wheel 

Feel I can't die when I'm poppin on the pill 

So real that it feel, keep Cochran on my heels 

Who rock the black and back out 

Now the MAC back out, just bout to blackout 

Got the ROC on my back, SP on my chain 

Shooters on the block slinging P last name 

Outta hot pink thangs like Camron Range 

The cocaine cowboy at work 

I put ya niggaz in the dirt for one like Dirt 

Concealed hammer won't jam or won't chirp 

Catch you on my second merk 

Fresh outta jail, ice grill gat to smirk 

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Bitches on the waste can't serve 'em 

ROC without Jay won't work? 

Shit like we ain't here 

Actin like SP ain't here 

How ya'll niggaz can't see that clear? Clear? 

Yeah, slow all the way down young scrapper 

Pump ya brakes real fast, before ya crash 

Crack ya head on the dash 

I put ya body in a cast, keep my shotty on blast 

Hard heads don't get the picture until they see the flash 

You ain't ballin, you pump faking 

Till you found in ya trunk naked 

Four pound to ya crown like, "Where the paper?" 

B. Sig, cold crook, I trap paper like notebook 

Photos 

When the hot water disappear like when coke cook 

Then resurface, its Sig. Berk-owitz, bitch I'm sick 

Leave that ass like Dama 

Sig. heat that ass like sauna 

Stretch ya body out like recliner 

Stretch my middle finger to your honor 

like, "Fuck the world", thats my persona, love drama 

Drop a building like Osama, you vagina 

I know you wish you never met me like Carl Thomas 

Try to forget me like all silence 

Fuckin with a vet be, all problems 

I'm not about the threats B, I'm all promise 

Before "The Truth", position in the booth 

As a young scrap, I was vicious as a youth 

Kept a gat moving pigeons in the Coupe 

You was strapped, then positioned on the stoop 

Stay strapped, put my pistol on shoot 

Mac take ya "Juice" like Bishop on the roof 

I had ya pissing in ya trunk like a roof 

Bullets hit ya chest like a blunt rolled loose 

I'm that corn liquor nigga, 100 proof 

I bring the storm, all you niggaz lace ya boots 

Better yet, pull out ya strings, make a noose 

Hang yaself, here's a deuce deuce, bang yaself like Cheddar Bob 

I'm in the hood like S-T-tall cat-Crooked Letter-I 

S-P-C-O, nigga yes I 

Yes I 

Matta fact 

Yeah, Yeah 

Bring it back 

Bring it back, me, Doc, America's blunted 

Not from there, but I'm Philly Most Wanted 

Drop and roll, when my biscuit boil 

Talk is greasy, toungue with Crisco oil 

Streets is mine, check my flow online 

At ww.cutanigga.com 

Bricks, two on the hip, reach for the sky 

You and ya Burberry suit is buried alive 

On top of the Empire, dare me to dive 

there I go, no parachute 

Jackass like Knoxville, hot as Cancun 

Chest hair is baboon, Redman rip the show 

I be the raw in ya bitches nose 

She be goin to the bathroom, sniffing blow 

Like, "Oh Docta shit, my man a joke" 

I know, I be strapped with a double 4-4 

And a Slim Jim to open ya Cadillac door 

In the Bricks you hear them guns 

Rat-a-tat-BOOM 

Any nigga get X'ed out like Tic-Tac-Toe 

Any bitch that know, Redman goin the distance 

We ain't tryin to get fucked for instance 

When you bust baby, gon light the insence 

Pass me the rag, hop back in the Jag 

I stole out the showroom with the pricetag 

I wrote this rhyme off 25 blunt drags 

Hear that sound (whoosh), leave a block hunchback 

Killa House, understand prick 

We ain't gon stop till we "RICH BITCH" 

Holla back, Redman, Beanie Sigel 

Killa House