[Verse 1: Black C]
See, I'm like too took
All of them n***as look when I be posted
Some n***as roll through in a drop 'stang
Like muggin', gettin' toast
So we like slid in the cuts to grab the gats
While them marks walk through
See, Harbor's a dead-end street
So we will like have to bust a U and uh
I think them marks are down the way-way
So bay-bay
Start bustin' caps for the grave homies and J.J
It must have been a lucky day
That 3-5-1 was out there barkin'
They got away clean and smooth while my n***as was steady sparkin', see
I know the drama's gon' be on
I phone, to my brother Tone 'cause he the backbone
He be like organizing the violence that take place up on this block
You fuck around with this posse, you might wind up gettin' glocked
Giggity-Glock, I'm on the block, labeled the locsta
Posted on the side of a house just like a poster
I'm ready to dial the seven digits
And see if you can get it
'Cause tonight his life is shorter than a midget

[Chorus: Black C, Mr. Cee]
I put the mortuary number up on his pager
Don't fuck with me (9-1-1)
I put the mortuary number up on his pager
Don't fuck with me (9-1-1)
I put the mortuary number up on his pager
Don't fuck with me (9-1-1)
I put the mortuary number up on his pager
Don't fuck with me (9-1-1)
[Verse 2: Hitman]
Well creepy, creepy, here I come
Climb the wall like Spider-Man
See, Hitman's out the ???
???
'Cause, I been rippin on Harbor all day long mane
Now, it's time to muzzle them n***as with the G-L-O-C-K
???
???
Waiting for a payday
So now it's time to get my squad and rush up in his ?
And if you notice an enemy who you spotted as a target
Grab my mean machete, hitted it, splitted it
Sucka ass n***as is prohibited, get with this
'Cause if you runnin' up, mayne, you're just bound to get mistreated
Battered and beated, lie down like ?
'Cause suckas be tryna play, it's time to huff and puff
I'ma shoot about ten men, nah, eight is e-fuckin'-nough
'Cause one little pinky got away that means it's 'bout seven days
It's time to put the code on his pager
And let him know it's major

[Chorus: Black C, Mr. Cee]
I put the mortuary number up on his pager
Don't fuck with me (9-1-1)
I put the mortuary number up on his pager
Don't fuck with me (9-1-1)
I put the mortuary number up on his pager
Don't fuck with me (9-1-1)
I put the mortuary number up on his pager
Don't fuck with me (9-1-1)
[Verse 3: Mr. Cee]
Well it's about time I school n***as like Farrakhan
Deep fry their mind like some freshly made golden prawns
You know you can't fuck with this gang
I'm like some clothes without no hangers
Boy, you know you can't hang
So, um, act like you knew
You should have been [?], your ass is through
And no, you can't put no salt on this Frisco pimpin'
I draw that ass like Bart, you fucking little Simpson
Just call me a fuckin' toolbox 'cause I lost all my screws
My last name is Church so it's time for you to pay your Sunday dues
And if you don't, fool, there sho' ain't no hope
My breath don't stank, but yes, I got the scope
Pointed at your dome, here in '94
I'm rippin' and runnin' and walkin' over n***as just like they was cement floors
So you don't have to get the yellow pages
'Cause I left that mortuary number in your fuckin' pager

[Chorus: Black C, Mr. Cee]
I put the mortuary number up on his pager
Don't fuck with me (9-1-1)
I put the mortuary number up on his pager
Don't fuck with me (9-1-1)
I put the mortuary number up on his pager
Don't fuck with me (9-1-1)
I put the mortuary number up on his pager
Don't fuck with me (9-1-1)
[Verse 4: Cellski]
In my backyard, it's a gang of bodies that's buried
When you walk in my backyard, you're walkin' on a cemetery
When I was born, I was born on the 13th
My best friend was Freddy and we used to live on Elm Street
Back when I was young, about ten years old
Jim Jones was my idol 'cause he took a lot of souls
Now that I'm older, I got a lot of sense
No fingerprints to be found and not a lick of evidence
Plan out the murder before I hurt another victim
Pulled the lick before I stick him, on the ground, that's when I kick 'em
Leave 'em dead or dying with his eyes open wide
Get some dank and go high to get my mind of the homicide
Turned on the news to see what they was sayin'
They said The Taker done struck again for his twelfth straight slayin'
Because the n***a got played like Sega
So I put the mortuary number up on his pager

[Chorus: Black C, Mr. Cee]
I put the mortuary number up on his pager
Don't fuck with me (9-1-1)
I put the mortuary number up on his pager
Don't fuck with me (9-1-1)
I put the mortuary number up on his pager
Don't fuck with me (9-1-1)
I put the mortuary number up on his pager
Don't fuck with me (9-1-1)

[Outro: Mr. Cee]
Don't fuck with me
Don't fuck with me
Don't fuck with me
Don't fuck with me