Chop All American 6271 Posts user info edit post |
[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 |
BigHitSunday Dick Danger 51059 Posts user info edit post |
[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 |