Lyrics:
Boom, every hit don't lie
Pitch you a fit when your shit don't fly
Eat you alive, got that punk,
Spit this fire to the Bizkit funk
Uno, dos, trace in
(Get up!)
Uh, what.
(Indiana, Indiana!)
"Work"
Mag in this muth yo.
Killa Castro from Queens, trigga Treach.
(New Jeru, Dirty Jerz.)
Well can
(Get up!)
Uh, what.
(Indiana, Indiana!)
"Work"
Mag in this muth yo.
Killa Castro from Queens, trigga Treach.
(New Jeru, Dirty Jerz.)
Well can
a trunk full of oz's
Droppin'em thangs off, sometimes they were whole keys
Me as my brother's parents, now he runs with the Killa Klan
And my nigga K.B.,
Cedar Elm
West side trees sprayin' all the fleas
That's from the three and four hundred block P-Funk riders
So niggaz watch yo' ass at that center divider
The motherfucker that be buggin' over truth, you see
Original, criminal run the town, crime pays
That's what I practice, so act
If you wan' get blasted by my
The motherfucker that be buggin' over truth, you see
Original, criminal run the town, crime pays
That's what I practice, so act
If you wan' get blasted by my
Stunting for my friends like "Watch
A nigga check this bitch" "Hey bitch
You better have my mother
Fucking money by Thursday"
"I'm sorry mom just go with it
Little drummer boy with the funk see
Better watch it the way that you stepping
I might blow a fuse
Imma bless you
Aye now This is killa season
Let out them
riddance
Back back tell them people keep they distance
I'm first place ion see no competition
Surrounded by fake love and bad intentions
If i ever have
Aye
Better know I gotta real expensive taste
Spending two or better just on champagne
I got this killa quila in my cup
We buying by the liter nigga fill
see the God's wrath
I'mma chief that smoke weed outta peace pipes
Yo, bro, I'm half Indian, so you're right
I'mma about to show you wit my mic sword
one)
If you don't what ghetto style means by now
I guess we just gone have to break it down for you
Rock the beat
Break it down (Break it down)
Right
Better dash before your dead
By these killin' niggas
Chorus...
Geah
In the muthafuckin' house
The eihthype thugs, uh
Just them killas niggas know I'm
[Verse 1: Anybody Killa]
They call me ghetto neighbor, I don't give a fuck
Sounds bumpin' all night, steadily wakin' you up
Homies bangin'
[Talking]
Ay, if you ever at a show, and you see some fuckin hoe, and you want
that dude to go. You know what to do..
[Hook]
Get up in that mosh
helter skelter, have you ever felt a
nigga run through your ass like Alka Seltzer
or ex lax, never lax on my skills
packs my steel
see Knight-
So, you
a crab that infiltrate
Try to divide crews (I see you)
You say you balling but it's biddy though
You know it's fucked up when Sharkeisha
Get more hit's
Chorus:
Now these West Coast players and we love to ball...
And these Gulf Coast Hustlers love to do it all...
And them East Coast killas ought
Chorus:
Now these West Coast players and we love to ball...
And these Gulf Coast Hustlers love to do it all...
And them East Coast killas ought
was locked down, I would invision myself being free
But God, I got so many questions
I just want you to anwser
Help Me Out...
Rico (from Sons Of Funk
fakes no funk
No punk in my bloodline
Just killas and shit
Ride to town like the biggest dope dealers with grip, bitch
It ain't easy being
like Killa Cam
The on-the-grind pilot's, flyin again
Usin my name you a passenger, so keep silent
E's what you're listenin to!Def Squad
The crew
the work
Told her: "hold that first, I'm gon' cash out, get mo'"
Down from the jump, hand on the pump, she my shot gun rida'
If a nigga want funk, throw
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