Bishop Lamont
"True Crimes"

(Intro)
True...crime (Fire Squad)
True...crime
True...crime (here we go)
True...crime

(Bishop)
Good Lord they shootin' at me
Smile on my face 'cause I'm trigger happy
Bitch get my drink and make it snappy
'fore I leave your ass screamin' for a taxi
True Crimes and nothin' but
I just seen that nigga Reuben jack a ice cream truck
Then quick across the street and rob a Pizza Hut
American Idol ain't my title
I'm Elmer Fudd with a big ass rifle
Lurkin' the block, homicidal
And robbin' nuns, gimme your bible (kidding)
Don't you know I'm loco homes
With a trenchcoat like Sherlock Holmes
Full of shotguns and big ass chromes (why)
Set to break in all your homes (why)
And take that, take that, like Puffy Combs

(Chorus: Bishop)
Gimme your gun, gimme your knife (why)
It's True Crimes, better run for your life
Hide your kids, hold your wife (why)
It's True Crimes, better tuck your ice
Clutch your purse, stash your cash (why)
It's True Crimes, I'm about to blast
Call the cops and lock your doors (why)
It's True Crimes, and I'm taking yours

(Bishop)
Pulled up to the store in a pick-up
Mask and gloves, guess what, it's a stick-up
Gimme all your money honey and a Big Gulp
And two Quick Picks, bitch don't say no I'm so
Out my mind I can't be serious
You hit so hard you have an out of body experience
No interference with the current proceedings
Or you'll be volunteering for some serious beatings
Oh my, oh my it's a tough guy
Get your face messed up like in Vanilla Sky
Used to be a super-size now you're just a small fry
Ain't got enough gas so I do a walk-by (blah)
Hey, that's a nice Motorola
With GPS, punk hand it over
'fore I jack your ass for your old Corolla
And roll your ass up like a Pee Chee folder

(Chorus)

(Bishop)
Shit, ain't nothin' left to spit
I done kicked enough shit to get the world on my dick
I'm Houdini in a Beanie got that Magic Stick
They in bikinis eeny meeny let me take my pick
It's like Memph Jay and Missy yo "is that your chick"
The way I'm pimpin' in this game it'll make you sick
I'm in the thing with wood grain with the top to flip
While your faggot ass is riding on a bike like dick (screech)
This ain't no game
Hafta vision cataclysm, bringin' extra ammunition
You can really end up missin' if you freakin' with my mission
You'll be meetin' a mortician, your new beautician I'm not
Through dissin so, you listen and pay close attention OK
Before I go from rapper to killer milla gorilla the mack milla I'll spill ya
Don't get me wreckin' shit like Mecha Godzilla yeah

(Chorus)

True...Crime (repeat to fade)