Lyrics:
mad at cha
Now we was once two niggas of the same kind
Quick to holla at a hoochie with the same line
You was just a little smaller but you still
street nigga)
We holla fuck cops, if we fall off with this rap mane
It's back to the trap to bust blocks
Man who can I trust not, nigga fuckin' up
your crouches
Keep steppin'
Cause the game we done held back to long
The pain we done felt that to long
Cocaine we done dealt that to long
And my
My motto is simply I will not lose (I will not used)
Abide by the block rules, I buy my glocks used
Wit bodies on it, let me know anybody want it?
don't invite in,
But since we got a like friend I could get you like, 10"
I told him I could move like 10 by nights end
Put the white over the plate,
randoms. Watch peers
It's always be ya own niggas
Watch out for everyone, even me
He Will Smith'n
Tryna be Ye and Yonce
Without credit
I know niggas who be
by
Raising a toast to a child
But where will we be this time next year????…………..
A better place …
I hope …. by far
INTERLUDE x2 to fade
All rights
My motto is simply I will not lose (I will not used)
Abide by the block rules, I buy my glocks used
Wit bodies on it, let me know anybody want it?
it when I holla?
The leaves are changing colors, will you be my winter lover?
Middle of October, could I call you to come over?
Well give me your
time the shit could get sticky
Thats right man the bloods will get snippy
[Verse 3]
Aiyyo its me Lil Shade back in this bitch yep motha fucka im in it
see love will rule reign supreme)
Happy Valentine's Day
(Every day the 14th) You got it
When Cupid knocks at your door
(You can't ignore me)
and wreckin' fools
Try disrespecting, my Smith and Wesson is endin' you!
And I ain't changed since back in the day (back in the day!)
Get your shit split
the Phantom of the Opera
Choppers from Yugoslavia, bake niggas like tilapia
LAT, Young Money mafia
Try but it ain't no stopping us
Why? We back by popular
Happy holidays
Let me come here and talk to you
I gotta stop sayin' I'm not doin' this shit no more knowin' I'm cappin'
(Great John on the beat by
that you nigga’s got it you never pressed record...
(Perfect)
BelAir fresh
Like Will Smith
No license still ride my whip
And I’m in the hills I can hide
Play wit me, Play wit me, Play wit me, shoot
Stick on my hip, big Glock
Put her hips on my wrist, tiktok
Know I'm will wit a smith, Chris rock
Gotta
drought..
Cause them boys will take you out
[Master P]
Nigga thuggin' in the hood so I'm still in the game
I'm out that Calliope nigga, bout to let my nuts
Catch a nigga by his toe
If he holla stop em
Take his heart and drop em
Take control of his mind and the things that he already know
Even if he beggin
hula hoop ya
Liftin them Smith and Wessuns like the westerns
I blow out a niggaz intestines, and send him back to the fuckin essence
Bullet rows, blows
gettin' busy down in N-O
Gangsta's, get respect from me
And all you other niggaz gettin' checked by me
That's on the C, DPG will never break up
There's
won't take it back
I'm on the block with the killers and holdin' my own, of course (yeah, check, check)
I seen my mom and dad separate, ain't talkin'
You must be used to all the finer things
Infatuated by what money brangs
It seems to me you hoes will never change
So all that's left is for us
of the verse
That I haven't spit yet
Will this step just be another misstep
To tarnish whatever the legacy
Love or respect
I've garnered? The rhyme has to be
in
Moving all miraculous, the slap smiths of the rap game
Say my name backwards, you'll get back changed
Black man, black hooded, moving through
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