Artist: JoJo Pellegrino f/ Carlton Fisk Album: Hitman for Hire Song: Hearts of Men Typed by: Davida.b. [Intro: Carlton Fisk] I feel you too motherfucker, I know, it's love This nigga JoJo, this nigga's something else Carlton Fisk, PLO is back, nigga You thought it was gone, but it ain't, it never went nowhere And I'm here, mister I'm here, Carlton Fisk in your area [Carlton Fisk] Description, light skinned male International agencies can never put my face on foul Mercenery, your favorite murder weapon was bomb symtec The pros coming to New York, we thinking you're next Master of disguise, FBI filled you with lies ?Carla Ferguson? youth was a diversion Techniques to murder a surgeon, merging words Blurred and disturbing, they lost me on nine five swerving ?Cowasaki? pushing this shit, sitting backwards, uzi clips dispersing Helicopter almost had me stop traffic, merging Pop the clutch, pop a shot, wheelie out, don't give a fuck, I'm never giving up Plan to kill Pope John at one of his speeches A killer with a conscience, children my only weakness That shit sounds slick, but let's be for real You's a faggot like nigga, you just caught a break I'm the robbery suspect that'll tuck the eighth Pistol whip you in the face, make you crack the safe Let you front all you want on cds and mixtapes Cus PLO Style, niggas had to earn they name Getting close range on niggas and burn they frame Learn the game, make a double wager, nod at your dame Gave her a gram, fair exchange, head in your range Curly head nigga, iceberg sweats the chain Beef and brocoli, three quarter general's daughter I'm out of order, my lifestyle's a crime reporter Not the actor but the author, original clever terror Rock a black leather, duck the police, blast berettas [Chorus: Carlton Fisk (JoJo Pellegrino)] (What evil lerks in the hearts of men) It be the street life, PLO is at it again What evil lurks in the hearts of men (It be the sniper on the rooftop I'm at it again) [JoJo Pellegrino] Hitman for hire, off your foes with the fire One single blow from the sniper and they gon tumble like clothes in the dryer I'm self employed, be out of town for days Check into hotels under alias names, search the clostets and close all the shades Before I do a hit I get a clean shave Slip on the leather gloves, throw on shades Locate my target, set up shop in the shade First class shotti was laid, his peoples looked back Warent commission couldn't calculate the angle from witch his shit was pushed back The cross hairs is non discriminating And fifty thousand is the payment on the pavement, hot ones is penetrating Live alone, anti-sociable, my work is my passion Johnny Cash fashion, black armor, full gear matching Sit with mob bosses, skippers and captains I sail with only two things, see em before my envelope's passed in Harder than Napoleon, politicions get popped at the podium Wise guys probably gotta get close to em to dispose of them Trips to Vancouver, sip the San Booker beneath the moonlight Overlook grassy meadows rendevu with city night life Then it's back to my trife life, clippin and wackin Off in the scorcher, weapon of choice with infra red action In the head, catch him, my scope in it's prime On par recieving this particular charge, I specifically told him open his mind Ruthlessly living, accept this dirty task that I'm giving Hay listen, it's a living, my only weakness, women and children, hitman for hire [Chorus 2X]