Lyrics:
Hardcore, real ill niggas
I'm internationally known
When I be on the mic
Hardcore, real ill niggas
I'm internationally known, yo
Hardcore,
buying you sneakers
But I'm a keep it real, I ain't cheap
Check it out
[Chorus]
Yo, to the haters, lovers, thug baby mommys
Walk around me
On the artichoke we fed him
Left for dead with a pretend suicide note
Cowrote by the denizens of dope
Part 3:
So many fools to lambast rapping half-mast
Kraken
Out in the streets, they call it murder
Welcome to Jamrock, camp where the thugs dem camp at
Two pound ah weed inna van back
It inna your hand
taxin'
I won't say a thing 'cause I
Got bitches on the low
And we don't need no ring
Ain't play yo' part and that I know
Bitch, I'm in the paint
Wit'
colors, colors, colors, colors, colors (real bad man)
My people die over colors, colors, colors, colors (yo, yo)
Colors, colors, colors (see me a seh,
Locked him in a 6 by 9 but they couldn't trap his spirit
That nigga so strong he make me look weak
Wanted to cry in my cell when it was meat loaf week
That
the flow can't be touched
Was Daniel with it now I'm Mr Miyagi
I kick it the illest but don't know karate
Ya bitch in my dm like I am yo gotti
Cool
they call but don't get calls back
With the bros we don't ask where y'all at
Word to Gotti copped nicks in small bags
Now you wanna be part of all that
a reason
Uh, Call on my phone, know, I got it
I want hit the stove, I grew up, to Yo Gotti
I send a reminder, I tell them the gram it ain't real
They get
you been warned
Cause yo, I'm speakin up for my parts, and if you step, then it's on
And there'll be no holdin back
Niggas in gold and black
Who
strike
Industry no like when money
Drugs and murder not a part
Of your plight
Spitting facts and knowledge
They say you too polite.
Yo
It ain't no more
Jasmine and Jeniffer
Jaw bone in, Jessica come runs by the messenger
They all know when it come to the hoes
I get em down and they on under clothes, in them
Out in the street, they call it murder
(Fuck D-Block)
Verse 1
Tony Yayo:
PUT YO HANDS UP
Gimme dat CHAIN and dat Jacob
One false move you get spread
To real niggaz to real niggaz
K B X, yo, yo
Who wants to test the untestable?
Infrared nine at your spine, leave you vegetable
Where the bullet not
doin' sit ups on the virgin rug
Drinkin' criss out a mug, part boughee, part thug, call me bug okay?
No, no, I know y'all ain't say no uh oh
Be back in
Right
Uhhhh
Let's do this, one time baby
Uhhh
Yea-yea
Yah, yo
Whattup ma, the name H doe, I'm into pesos
V.I.P. and champagne by the caseloads
Yo, who want it with us? Y'all n****s not f***in' wit' us
Y'all hoppin' nimrods; We holdin' on up under the truck
We caked out; we all got cars so
as the bullets whizzed by
Prayin to Allah cause they don't want to die
But neither do I, fuck it, I gotta be here
As a rap artist, it's a vital part
Ain't really got time for nigga
Gone head lil baby mind your business
Stayed on my gird yeah I stayed big pimpin
No I'm not a thug but I stay with
a certified thug but it’s a lot to take it but all my trust in the wrong people I won’t do it again
But I been thuggish by myself knowing someday I’m a win
a place to rest
Until I got that Thug Life tatted on my chest
Tell me
Can you feel me? I'm not livin' in the past
You wanna last? Be the first to blast
Y'all got the testers, man?
Nigga, it ain't even nine o'clock
And you fiendin' on the
get the fuck outta here damn
Yo, why you act like that, yo
throw by the 3 she gon think that I'm trickin
Ima pop me a jigga then ima get jiggy
My youngins some thugs we running up digits
When I get me a tour
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