Chop
All American
6271 Posts
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[Hook: All]
We just some country boys - country walk, country talk
Don't bring it round here 'less ya know fa sho' it's jumpin off
We just some country boys - country walk, country talk
Don't bring it round here 'less ya know fa sho' it's jumpin off
[B. Stille]
Uhhh.. this nigga no games (games)
With my Hanes tee shirt, with a pic and roll chain (chain...)
Doo-rag, heavy blue 'Lac - 85 South, don't drive it too fast (too fast)
My niggaz don't roll no billies,
get a big box of them brown Dutches (brown Dutches)
We don't want no brand new Cartel
Brandon lemme get them keys to the Cutlass (Cutlass)
Represent for the M-I-L, the A-T-L, the Macktown (Macktown)
Stay smokin that smackdown, keep myself a little half pound (half pound)
You know B. Stille in the cut, on the back po'ch Jig drillin it up
Black folks just livin it up, court next week not givin a fuck!
What's up? Grown standin - only rap to them grown women (grown women)
Stay high, we'll play shy, least till I can get home wittem
Shorty whattchu thinkin? Whattchu drinkin? - thinkin it is what it ain't
I cain't be trickin, so don't be trippin, thinkin I can't when I cain't
Come on..
[Hook: All]
[Skinny DeVille]
Nigga hooked it up, like the waitress from the IHOP
Nothin but the grits, steak, and egg with that
waitin for the five dollar pancake, front-back side to side
Them polly country boy, Cadillac, cat sick in the multi-color
All clean (twenty inches) at the seam (plenty chickens)
Get the green (spit the swishers) at the Beam (shit done seem)
Craziest muh'fucker, what y'all niggaz do for cream
Never knock the hustle scheme, only what the cheddar bring
Hate, fake-niggaz, hoes, envy, greed, jealousy
Cain't hate, what a nigga make, type of enemies
Smilin in my face but they really ain't no friend to me
Cain't wait, send em eight straight nine milli-mee
Aww hell naw, y'all niggaz ain't feelin me!
Colt 45 e'rytime like Billy D
Ninety-five dead leave through Tennessee
Quarter pound with the chron' fuckin wit my memory
[Hook: All]
[Hook 2: Fish Scales + (R. Prophit)]
Peanut butter (Rag-tops) - what's fuckin wit that?!
(String beans) pork chops - what's fuckin wit that?!
Dime sack (with the gnac') - what's fuckin wit that?!
What's fuckin with that?! What's fuckin wit that?!
Every Chevy (on dubs) - what's fuckin wit that?!
(Jodi-Bodi) strip clubs - what's fuckin wit that?!
Nappy Roots (hey dawg) - what's fuckin wit that?!
What's fuckin wit that?! What's fuckin wit that?!
[Fish Scales]
Go down to the country, you won't wanna go back
Vertical grills in front of the 'Lac
Guns roll so fast put one in my back
Plus a buncha country boys wit gats, you don't want none-a that
Keep - my nine - right beside me, at all times
Cuz I be in the line, like somma these niggaz you find
Don't want you to shine, right yea..
[R. Prophit]
From the side and nine-to-nine
Roll around here somethin tryna sell mine
Lord know but I got a dime early time
Got me feelin to', now my Eggo's cold
See I'm a country boy (Huh?) Close the door (Huh?)
Clinton and Gore (Huh?) Y'all been warned (Huh?)
Guns and more - better hit the floor
Them yeggaz want ya cuz they comin in with them laws
[Fish Scales]
Fuck - yo life; buck - my chife
and I got my ride, fool, I'm ready to ride
For my yeggaz I'ma bring it to you dead or alive
[R. Prophit]
Yeah that's fa sho' ya betta know that
You a nasty hoe, ya betta show that
Got a quiet lil' spot we can go at
And if you ain't wit that, we can show you where the do' at
[Hook: All]
[Hook 2]
[music to fade]  6/22/2010 1:06:18 AM
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BigHitSunday
Dick Danger
51059 Posts
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[there’s far too many of you dying]
Verse one: scarface
June twenty-eight was the date thirty-eight
Till the chest plate mommy dear’s cryin’ at the wake
And everybody’s dressed up in black suits
Goin’ to pay their last respects to the black troop
Why’d he have to die
Is the question that we’re under
But everyone knows that everyday’s a different number
So when your time comes, just remember g
You’ll always have a place in this world as a memory
Especially my boys who passed away back in ’92
Best believe that all the boys in the hoods got love for you
Wherever we go, wherever we be, we be thinkin’
Of how we hung in the clubs smokin’ and drinkin’
Never missin’ out on a hood fight
’cause ever-ee-day back in the hood we had a good fight
Everything is changed and people-r-lookin lonely
It’s gonna be strange spendin’ new year’s eve without your homie
But ain’t much that we can do
Except pour brew throughout the crew to make sure we all remember you
And believe me it hurts
To see the boy you broke bread with six feet in the dirt... dirt
[there’s far too many of you dying]
[there’s far too many of you dying]
Verse two: bushwick bill
Another homie got smoked but it’s no surprise
Everybody’s trippin cause the boy was to young to die
A sad sight to see my homie take his last breath
Everybody’s trippin cause they can’t accept my homeys death
Another killin’ was reported on the evenin’ news
Somebody’s brother got killed behind a pair a shoes
In the midst of all this shit I think about my self
Wonderin’ when somebody’s gonna try to take me off the shelf
But I refuse to be another violent casualty
So when I’m rollin’ I pack my pistol grip beside my knee
Cause on the city streets today a brother jus’ can’t win
When the people you think are your friends really ain’t your friends uh
And bushwick can’t sleep
When everybody aroun’ me keeps fallin’ six feet deep
[there’s far too many of you dying]
[there’s far too many of you dying]
Verse three: scarface
The pain that’s deep inside of everybody grows
As they approach to see the body before the casket close
The person standin’ nex’ to me has snapped the flip
Once I seen the casket closed I knew that that was it
The whole entire family spoke on his defence
The choir sung the songs that make us reminisce
And durin’ all the singing I broke down myself
When I looked and seen the family that my partner lef’
And then the choir broke into it’s final song
Thinkin’ to myself the worst is yet to come
Everyone was headed for the final flight
As we creeped along the gravel on the burial sight
The director said his words and there was not a sound
As they lower my little partner inside the ground
Everybody dropped their flowers on the coffin top
And then they work alone with the concrete block and that’s deep
[there’s far too many of you dying]
[there’s far too many of you dying]
Verse four: big mike
Alotta homies die
Alotta mothers cry
I watch tears fall down from their eyes
Everybody wants to go to heaven but nobody wants to take the chance
They chose the music so they had to dance
Couldn’t tell ’im nothin
Was a player, had ta have it
Got caught up in the game now ma boy’s in the casket
And everybody’s lookin’ for somebody else to blame
Ashamed to let his mother know that he was in a gang
We used to kick it on the ave at night
Comin’ up tryin’ to have the finer things in life
But now my boys gone, I wish he was at home
I wish he wouldn’t a never fell victim to the clone
So when I drink a brew for you I pour some on the block son
You might be gone but you damn sure ain’t forgotten
So on remember whenever or wherever
Dead or alive real partners come together, and you know that
[there’s far too many of you dying]
[there’s far too many of you dying] 6/22/2010 11:43:31 AM |
