Lyrics D.O.A. - Twista

Dead on arrival
Swear to God I′ma kill him as if I done put my hands on the Bible
Get him cause I'm liable
To rock a motherfucker off especially if I get my hands on the rifle
Do the damn thang
Nothin that can stop a nigga, pop a nigga off as if you are champagne
Put him in the ambulance but ain′t no resusitation
Cause he done got knocked off point blank range
It's a crisis the way niggaz'll pull up or shoot
Last week, the streets just put him in a coupe
This week, the streets just put him in a suit
Six feet under with dirt on top of the roof
Put him in the grave
People standin over your body and they wonderin if his soul′ll be saved
Or if it has risen or if it will be forbidden
By the way you was doin shit that could′ve put you in prison
Now you ain't with the livin, cause you wasn′t the shooter or didn't know how to shoot
Either way feel the fury or I′ll make the block cripple
Come in like a mosh pit'll
Be the nigga knowin if he bust the Glocks it′ll put you up in the hospital
And when you on the way
And they get a look at the way that the bullets spray
Everybody about to know that we don't play
Makin sure that your body arrive D.O.A.
Or dead on arrival (dead on arrival)...
Dead on arrival...
Dead on arrival
Saw him roll up on the block and put some shots up in the head of a rival
Then up on the passanger side of the vehicle
He hit you with the artillery simply cause he didn't like you
Shoulda knew not to piss him off
Catch a disease of a gun cause it′ll cough
Better watch your mouth
If you see some grown folks of a higher pedigree especially if it be your boss
These lil′ niggaz ain't playin
Soon as you come up and start talkin shit then they sprayin
Want you to ride in the whip then they stand
Soon as they see the nigga hit then they ran
Straight got jokes
They don′t want no part of a nigga that's comin at ′em ambitiously with the toast
Point blank range if you let 'em too close
Send up for homicide, body was lookin gross
Probably off wit′cha head
If him in the scene was comin to the war Christ off, lights off
And this ain't no "Walking Dead"
They get rid of you, if they throw the body in the white chalk might cough
No talkin to the Feds, they hit 'em fast
Try to retaliate, but they gon′ get his ass
And they ain′t gon' be able to revive him in the ambulance
They just gon′ pick him up and zip him in the bag
Dead on arrival...
Dead on arrival...
Dead on arrival (dead on arrival)