Lyrics:
hang it up
Go somewhere and hang up some 50 posters, PUNK
You speak too late, y'all prolly gon' go up to them awards
and get yo' ass whooped by B2K
I
the Outlawz
Bad Azz representin' the L.B.C. Crew
What you wanna do?
You know how we do it
Time goes by
? puffin on lye
Hopin that it get me high
Got
Jesus
Can't take no more loss
So let me remind them
Now who got the sauce
Two by two
Four by four
Six by six
I'm drippin' in sauce
Counting my blessings
I'm like Damn men
Damn men
What you mean men
My brakes are bad
Brake pads Ain working up men
Nigga said shxt like that
Live fast die young that's real
Live from New York it's Saturday Nite
Live from New York it's Saturday Nite
Live from New York it's Saturday Nite
Live from New York it's Saturday
know that I
Live and die for the things I do slang
I use breakin' down mics and destroyin' crews.
1-2-1-2 uh
1-2-1-2 mic check 1-2-1-2
1-2-1-2
I said, "Shut the fuck up!"
Tell me what big bad really
Fuckin' with the truck! (Who?)
Step up to my path
I'mma turn yo' ass to dust! (Boom)
No matter
Yuhh
Woo
Glrrt pow
A10
A10
A10
A10
A10
You know the f**cking Vibes n***a
Long Live Pop Smoke n***a
Me my n****s don't lack
Send two shots to ya back
grandma fried chicken w lard,
Apparently u understand tha ass-ign-ment,
Bitch I’ll cash out on yo building,
But I’m not gon pay yo rent; (bxtch)
Repeat
These pussy niggas be talkin'
I swear to God I'll blast 'em
Show them that I'm forreal, man I be ball
Look at that fake ass chain look like
He got it from
And though I pack this pound 3-5-7 or 4-5
Will I hide? Will I die? Will I ride?
Niggas never know why
My whole crew, a family clique
Are we sick? Are we live
Vying to be enlightened by iron minded barsmiths
I and my accomplice are drying eyes and we're targeting
Barless and heartless rivals tying lives to their
Come four by four, lose one like Dru Hill
Stay fly 'til you air sick, now that's ill
Two choices, either squeeze or peel, now that's real
What
clips at the born hour
I'm a wizard at this shit
Like Jowahn Howard
Put my gun up in the ass of crews
And start to spray
Time to pay massive dues
So I
of you
'Cause I can kill you dead with the lead from my no 2
And it's death in every paragraph
And niggas learn when I burn they muthafuckin' ass to ash
the mainstream?
Meek Mill leans forward into the
Glow of his computer screen
His expression unreadable behind a
Pair of gold sunglasses
It's April, well after two
and dollahs
Zeros and commas
Baby save me the drama
And bounce that ass like Impalas
She knows I stay looking I don't turn away
Bad bitch see it in her face
up the gang and they come and get you (gang)
Cry me a river, give you a tissue (hey)
My bitch is bad and boujee (bad)
Cookin' up dope with a Uzi
up the gang and they come and get you (gang)
Cry me a river, give you a tissue (hey)
My bitch is bad and boujee (bad)
Cookin' up dope with a Uzi
no drive-by's
We walked over
COB bandana tied to the end of the AR
Iller than they are, rhymes so sick
Give 'em the day off
This is the chaos, Nicolas
can bring yo crew (Yea yea)
Fuck em by the two’s if she a nympho too (Yea yea)
Got yo bitch you know, ain’t know she was yo hoe
Take em down three in
Choppin' a bitch my crew hit then they slide
Know I live by the trap and the rules I abide
I won’t touch on a thot keep my girl by my side
If you
loving my style (She love it)
I got a tooly with me with a silencer on it so it don't make a sound (Shhh)
Pew she loving the crew
I need a crib by the lake
Aiyo, it's time to get drastic, but God bless the fantastic
Herb passed it, now I melt the mic like it's plastic
I rag crews cause I'm bad news
In
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