"The Professional" as written by Earl Simmons and Anthony Fields....
[Chorus: DMX]
Niggas won't creep these streets with me
Cause you know fuckin what these streets'll be
Make you wanna, then I'm gonna,
Cause I gotta, pop, pop, pop, pop (nigga!)

I look through the 11th floor window
Take one last puff of the indo (what?)
Look through the scope, and let like ten go
Break it down, back in the briefcase
Wipe the sweat off my face so I can leave safe
Outside I breathe safe
Nigga never saw it coming, that's how he got it (what?)
Never even thought of running, cause a nigga plotted (what?)
Smart niggas get niggas killed for real
I know, they make a deal? I'm comin with the steel (aight)
It's goin' be that cat you don't see that's gon' pop you
Stop you in your motherfucking tracks nigga and drop you
Get rid of all the clothes (uh-huh) dump the gun
I hate to be the type of nigga to leave you, slugged and run
But I'm on the job and right now there's more niggaz that need to be
Left with a head full of lead, resting easily
And that twenty G's a fee, put to a good use
The only excuse I have for what I do is, love of abuse (c'mon!)

[Chorus: x2]

I can catch you in the very building that you live in
Wait until you get right at your door then start spitting (aight?)
Now they got a ribbon tied to the rail at the top of the steps (what?)
I was there, you ain't DIE at the top of the steps (alright?)
I can do that walk behind you shit and follow you home
Make a noise, you turn around and I put one in your dome (boom!)
Last thing you saw was chrome and a, flash of light
I blast him right, nigga, that's yo' ass tonight (c'mon!)
I could put a bomb in your car and watch it explode (boom!)
Then make em call, tell em all they found was a piece of your clothes
And a small piece of your nose and, bone from your arm
Which they really couldn't tell apart, because of the bomb
I could be waiting, camped out in yo' car, in the backseat
With some fucking chicken wire, soon as you hit the backstreet
I jump up like Jack-in-the-Box, strangle the shit out yo' ass
Clean up the mess and, get away from the cops

[Chorus: x2]

I could be the UPS delivery boy (uh-huh) or the man
Working at Toys'are'Us handing yo' kid a brand new toy (true)
I could be the one serving your food wherever you go to eat at
Or that nigga on the corner that you ask, 'Yo, where the weed at?'
I could be the one driving the school bus that yo' kids in
Except that, I don't like to involve, women and children (aight)
A nigga got feelings, I just put em aside
And when it's time for me to do my job, I just ride
I don't get much sleep (uh) my soul's tormented (uh)
I wish it was a lie but everything I said I meant it
I know I'm doing wrong and everyday I beg the Lord
To forgive me for fucking with the, double-edged sword
Shit ain't going too well, but that's my life
I know I'm going to hell, but that's my life
Sometimes I think what will I do, with my life
Kill nigga kill this is my life

[Chorus: x2]

Lyrics submitted by mike

"The Professional" as written by Anthony Fields Earl Simmons

Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group

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The Professional song meanings
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    General CommentDat'z my shit rite dere. Dis song iz da fuckin bomb. I love the part wen he'z like "with some fuckin chickenwire, soon as you hit the backstreet I jump up like Jack-in-the-Box, strangle the shit out yo' ass (BLEH) clean up the mess and, get away from the cops" Dat'z just so fuckin cool. "Jump up like Jack-in-the-Box" Good shit! :D
    TheLinkManon August 06, 2002   Link

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