Wishing you never heard of a (Psycho bitch) Bitch will make you murderous, she's a (Psycho bitch) Psycho breedin', believe it (Psycho bitch) Don't pack nothing, just leave it (Psycho bitch) She can be peaceful, and people that's peepin' they see this

These niggas say they heard of me, I ain't heard of you Get the fuck up out my fucking face, 'fore I murder you Bitch niggas always jacking Blood, but I know they fu Whole squad full of fucking killers, I'm a killer too Sending shots, shots, shots,

They will be blood May will be blood I dance with a million devils Die from a lie for sin Made love to a million angels Murder a million men

Out in the streets, they call it murder Welcome to Jamrock Welcome to Jamrock, welcome to Jamrock Welcome to Jamrock, camp where the thugs dem camp at Two pound ah weed inna van back It inna your hand bag, your knapsack, it inna your backpack The smell

Cause I'm in too deep, and I'm trying to keep Up above in my head, instead of going under Instead of going under Instead of going under again Maybe we're just trying to hard When really it's closer than it is too far The faster we're falling, We're

I'm bound to kill by the murderer's pact Coercion and threats Made their demands Held the past over my head One mistake has made me their tool Blackmailing a means to the end, I'm forced into the pact Is this what I am?

Slaughter Gang shit, Murder Gang shit I'm on that Slaughter Gang shit, Murder Gang shit I pull up roll the window down and I just bought a pistol it got 30 rounds in it Pull up at yo momma house and put some rounds in it Wet a nigga block and watch them

It's the same old story, same old song and dance, my friend You could look, but you ain't gonna find it around It's the same old story, same old story Get yourself cooler, lay yourself low Coincidental murder, with nothing to show When the judge's

Out in the streets, they call it murder Welcome to Jamrock Welcome to Jamrock, welcome to Jamrock Welcome to Jamrock, camp where the thugs dem camp at Two pound ah weed inna van back It inna your hand bag, your knapsack, it inna your backpack The smell

Murder, a mothafuckin' murder No you didn't see it but I know you bitches heard it Blood on the corner, damn I miss my dawg I'm just thinkin' 'bout his daughter, in another life he ballin' Please hold while I locate your information. Your checking