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Spy Hunter Lyrics - Singles - Sporty Thievz

Spy Detail, there was a 498-DS 

A top-secret formula had been stolen from the research lab 

We had a job to do 

We ran all suspects name through I and came up with 

 

Respond like James Bond to this con named Don 

Millions in his palms, sellin' neutron bombs 

Time 6 a.m., agent mayhem and eight men, no maybe ten 

Came to scoop me in the Benz in the Graham 

 

Money involved? Say when, gave me a beige Range and thangs 

But they claimed the Range changed to a plane, strange 

But perfect, showed me circuits and how to work it 

Wounds, how to nurse it, weapons, how to burst it 

 

Searched it, like a serpent, read the blueprints 

Dime be with two chinks sportin' links and new minks 

Drive a six with dark tints and one of the chinks 

Named Dinks and Dinks always drinks so he thinks he's invinc' 

 

Other chinks a wimp, but Teflon's his vest holds 

If he think you gonna roll, he'll put holes in your dress code 

Time to load and hit the highway, I'ma do it my way 

Spy way, do or die way, Schwarzenegger, true lie way 

 

So I pulled up on the drive way, ran through the side way 

Saw his compadres, motherfucker, yippee kay 

Die hard, nigga yelled, "My God", caught an Uzi scar 

Hit the tar, other bullet to the car, "Ah" 

 

Time to pay him back, time to fade him 

Got up tried to spray him, no aim, so I grenade him 

Didn't get the Don but the bombs was a factor 

Found what I was after, set the reactors 

For two minutes, heard laughter and "Lieutenant you finished" 

It was the Don with a Smitheth, Wessun to my chestun 

 

For a second I thought I was dead, no more said 

Then I heard shots of lead and lead sped through his forehead 

Brando with the ammo and Dubez with the Uz' 

Move into plane rovers, motherfucker, we spy hunters 

 

Big Dubez, Billy D, four-five, concealed weapon 

Runnin' through bricks that niggaz ain't yet step on 

Eludin' Cop-po, in the eight, inhalin' char-coal 

They tailin' but I'm Indy 500 Monaco 

 

Pigs can't stop no, Sporty Thiev Gestapo 

They sickened against flip whips to saw you slick and 

Out the fender, yo, no retreat no surrender 

To the fullest, that's why my toys deflect bullets 

 

On the cell like "Who in charge? Get me the sarge" 

Your squad car next, your fam reached my garage 

Espio-nage, yo my fate on the rocks 

I blow 'em out the box, firin' missiles on roadblocks 

On the verge on smack-ups, forces callin' for back-up 

Chunked in the trunk, 200 ki's to crack up 

 

Breathe holdin's essential, spy-hunter utensils 

Four govermentals with four sets of dentals 

I'm on a Cannonball Run like Burt Reynolds 

Bustin' off at the choppers, backin' down coppers 

 

We in the Phillipines, on death row, about to face guillotines 

my crew lace marines, stick over and make realer teams 

so yo, say hello to my lil friend, you wanna play? 

Okay, feel ten through your steel, man 

 

Yo we come together like foreign leaders 

Livin' large in Argentina, camouflaged in Korea 

in the bushes where they can't see-us 

spin astro 16 silence-face screw ons, Mission Impossible 

 

Merge 'em to the Persians with 2 glocks to my head 

Enough cream to flip the script, got niggaz watchin' the Feds 

Twenty ultra-red beams comin' through my window 

Tear-gas bleak up my glass the smoke blew the crib-bo 

 

The coke moves are ditto, layin' blue in Beirut 

Sneakin' weedin' Sweden shook the D's in Peru 

Like a crooked Batman with no partner but still Robin 

Trails be mind-bogglin', leave the D's followin' 

 

my front man, I be the big man behind the front man 

Front man got knocked? Big man still be the trump man 

Mix six crews and their glues, skully low smokin' nickels 

Runnin' up in cold blocks with icles 

 

spray the trey-nickel, guaranteed to hit you 

If I miss you, bullets will probably ricochet and nip you 

and fall like the Berlin wall 

hang 'em off the terror spies let's make a ball 

 

Crooked navy seals with flak-on, sniffin', getting they crack on 

I managed to mack on enough oil to put Iraq on 

Stapped the gats on for this spy-war 

Coke lab, helicopter roof, and a cy-borg 

Writer: , , ,

Copyright: Universal Music Publishing Group