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santa joe - bukshot lyrics

[verse 1: bukshot]
every legend has a story and beginning of it
there’s always string*pulling when you have to deal with puppets
a cold christmas eve night out in mobville
where snitching rats are getting chopped up like a saw mill
there was a vicious crime*ring of k!llers don’t you know
the leader of these mobsters, they called him santa joe
cigar hangin’ out his mouth and some black locs
g’d up skull*face with the red coat
grey beard wrapped around his neck like a snake
between you and mе though i think it might be fake
doesn’t rеally matter right now, looks are not important
i need to tell the story right so facts don’t get distorted
he was at war with the rival and his whole crew
cause santa joe carries power just like goku
pray to god that you don’t end up on his bad side
i’ll tell you more but right now jump on in this sleigh ride

[chorus: bukshot]
let’s do some m.o.b. sh*t the night before christmas (christmas)
grab a pad and pen, and make a wish*list (make a wish*list)
don’t matter if it’s personal or business (or business)
scratching names off of santa joe’s hit list (hit list)
time to bomb sh*t (bomb sh*t), shoot to k!ll and rob cliques (rob cliques)
do some m.o.b. sh*t (m.o.b. sh*t, m.o.b. sh*t)
call a m.o.b. hit then shake ’em like some convicts (convicts)
do some m.o.b. sh*t (m.o.b. sh*t, m.o.b. sh*t)
[verse 2: bukshot]
the war was on and popping
both sides dumping, bodies dropping
send the dairy gates and lock ’em
’bout to fill with coffins
joe was in the he*rs*, windows down and rockets launching
till a lucky bull done struck the target, rocked his noggin
cracked the jason mask, it was a blood bath
losing blood fast
weirdos always bust back
joe was on his feet and dumping like a s.w.a.t. truck
sending b*tches to the funerals like potluck
he was spraying bullets at the lowered el camino
but he’s not superman, he’s taking hits like al pacino
k!ll ’em all, in his head this is what they get
for crossing bosses in the mob and showing disrespect
one after one watch these motherf*ckers fall (fall)
leave’ ’em dead in the snow was their final call (call)
little did he know that loss of blood would take its toll (toll)
full of holes in the cold laid santa joe

[chorus: bukshot]
let’s do some m.o.b. sh*t the night before christmas (christmas)
grab a pad and pen, and make a wish*list (make a wish*list)
don’t matter if it’s personal or business (or business)
scratching names off of santa joe’s hit list (hit list)
time to bomb sh*t (bomb sh*t), shoot to k!ll and rob cliques (rob cliques)
do some m.o.b. sh*t (m.o.b. sh*t, m.o.b. sh*t)
call a m.o.b. hit then shake ’em like some convicts (convicts)
do some m.o.b. sh*t (m.o.b. sh*t, m.o.b. sh*t)
[verse 3: bukshot]
joe’s eyes opened up, he’s in an ambulance
he tried to move around but noticed handcuffs on his hands
looked up and saw two paramedics, two cops, holding glocks c*cked
he knows just where he’s headed
first the hospital cause they gotta patch his holes up
the next stop will be the county in the holed up
he was crisper so he wouldn’t get a court date
for at least a month cause murder was his forte
one of the cops made a joke ’bout how they finally caught him
santa joe was on the list for years and now they got him
all the sudden shots rang out full of hot lead
blood splattered everywhere, both cops dead
saw the driver of the e.m.s. crack a grin
it was his brother smoking joe with the mac*10
he shot the paramedics too, can’t leave a witness
m.o.b. sh*t is business, even when it’s christmas

[chorus: bukshot]
let’s do some m.o.b. sh*t the night before christmas (christmas)
grab a pad and pen, and make a wish*list (make a wish*list)
don’t matter if it’s personal or business (or business)
scratching names off of santa joe’s hit list (hit list)
time to bomb sh*t (bomb sh*t), shoot to k!ll and rob cliques (rob cliques)
do some m.o.b. sh*t (m.o.b. sh*t, m.o.b. sh*t)
call a m.o.b. hit then shake ’em like some convicts (convicts)
do some m.o.b. sh*t (m.o.b. sh*t, m.o.b. sh*t)
let’s do some m.o.b. sh*t the night before christmas (christmas)
grab a pad and pen, and make a wish*list (make a wish*list)
don’t matter if it’s personal or business (or business)
scratching names off of santa joe’s hit list (hit list)
time to bomb sh*t (bomb sh*t), shoot to k!ll and rob cliques (rob cliques)
do some m.o.b. sh*t (m.o.b. sh*t, m.o.b. sh*t)
call a m.o.b. hit then shake ’em like some convicts (convicts)
do some m.o.b. sh*t (m.o.b. sh*t, m.o.b. sh*t)

- bukshot lyrics

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