Artist: Wu-Syndicate Album: The Syndicate Is Back Song: Tecks, Money & Murder Typed by: pneumatic [Myalansky] I keyed Jamal, This kid up in the wheelchair Wild soldier, On the prowl with the toaster Club night, Ordering drinks Flavor Coogi, Orange and peach Approaching God sport'n a mink We politic about this Florida move Had dime bitches trans four way state Mya throw'n em winks A cold chill went down my spine Know'n Jake's style is murder niggas Straight Guerrilla, We kill killers Conversation got deep, Post me a squad by his seat Down the straight shots of scotch white preach Prices sound good but sure enough Knew sucker had me touched Man the Dutch funny feeling in my gut Keeping my composure, Told him Make sure shit's official Gave him some dap and said I'll hit you With an up North accent he replied back Lets get dough baby, Word, You's a live cat page me [Chorus: Myalansky] Tecks, Money & Murder, Project niggas is hurt'n Out to fix some dummy for certain Nothing but white chalk and yellow tape Don't get caught like fish on the hook, Nigga swallow bait V-A, Miami, Or Chicago snakes No one's promised tomorrow when it's dollar chase Next slug's breathing, You insert em Like Nat my name Turner, Tecks, Money & Murder [Joe Mafia] Step up in the house like we own it Bottles is pop'n behind the velvet rope, Polly'n watch'n Cribs all throughout the U.S., Do it on the strength Cop last road towns then boom, We on the next flight No luggage, Fuck it, Touch down Couple of pieces, Tees and fees just to add to the features See what's pop'n in a hood near you, My rear view Keep coppers on the radar, Dirty and still cool Wrapping up packages five-thousand mile away Got my culinary degree whip'n up Arm & H Check out my resume, How much confetti weigh We stick in the bank, You gamble'n with heavy weights Put that suitcase up your ass sideways Bring the duffle bag we plot'n on the truck five ways Cartel rings, El Savadory lean cuisine Cal Myra H-K with the beams, Uhh [Chorus] [Myalansky] You think about the proposition And how we'd run without this spot in Richmond With shit that they shot us with, Scared to use my two-way Looking for Jamal's man It's been a week since we linked at Pizzazz 7-5-7, 2-3, 6-5000 I'm not the type of cat you call coward Even though son grimey, I still gotta dry my hands Yo hello, Yeah this Myalan, God was on the move at noon Said we'd meet up at the Casablanca No doubt son, He know my ass drinker God was at the bar already As I walked through the doorway, Sip'n some Henny with Alize Cheers, We knocked down the thug passions Politic'n, How the bitches gone do the drug traffic When you tryna bounce I'm bout hit the lab So I can count this paper But Jake's smile like a straight crook [Chorus]