Lyrics:
did it and got bagged with two ounces
I live a world where squads hit the block hard
Ask my man Twin when he got bagged, that fucked me up, God
But
live Mix-A-Lot
You understand motherfucker I'ma hard rock
Beat 'em up and pick 'em up and make 'em miss the stick up
But my gat close range, take his
Here's a swab for ya ear (to clean out ya lobe)
And listen to a few views from two crews spittin' for the art of it
We ain't takin' over but damn sure
Here's a swab for ya ear (to clean out ya lobe)
And listen to a few views from two crews spittin' for the art of it
We ain't takin' over but damn sure
for a sec
Then I had to get a mic check
(Like ? your family caught wreck)
I gots no pops to snatch me up and say, "What are we gonna do?"
Here's my
nerves, man word
I'm expectin' some etiquette in your segment kid
I brought you to the 'Stu to show how we do
So all them antics and funny shit you do for
because we thought, you know, it wasn't the right time to do another, you
know, a second live album. But you know, it means it's well... I guess for
promise we gon' finna' take your spot
And set it off
(Yuh)
And thats just how we finna' do it
I get mean on this shit
Vagabond finna' lose it
Y'all agree
youve been bit
Chop and mix cut rolls with sticks
Dead presidents hows 2 for $6
Visions blurry I'm lasix
Feed you for life cuz I'm your fix
Quick fix
Say what you like
Cuzzy, do your thing, I'mma do mine
Cuzzy, do you and I'mma do I
And I ain't selling out grime
I'm just selling out grime (unit's)
me I'm a Uptown nigga for life! (2X)
[1st Verse-Tec-9]
Nigga it's judgment day, can you face these 3 niggas actin' reckless
Jack ya for your
The way I apply pressure
Do not test your luck
Light em up
Like some damn Skechers
Ain't no loose ends
I'm a big stepper
Schooling all these niggas
Like
Family ties and rubberbands (mmm) - two things fuckin' up a lot of my plans
I don't really want smoke 'cause the gun won't jam (Bah! Bah!)
So if y'all wan'
bein'
You don't wanna motherfuckin'
You don't wanna embrace your destiny
You wanna get by
You don't wanna go into the motherfuckin' dark
Where it's
on their faces
You wanna walk around with them or you wanna walk with God, nigga!
Make up your got damn mind!
I'm from where the streets test you
Niggas mix
And I'ma keep pickin on your weak ass crew
You, BITCH, Bizarre you a fat stutterin fuck
You a joke, I choke whoever buttered you up
I've been ridin by your
the answer
To the United States economy and a cure for cancer?"
I said, what are you doin in the White House if you're not sellin cocaine?
Ask your wife,
in limbo
'Cause one loco bro chose to dispose of you
And your skinhead crew
I ain't a house nigga with a twenty-two
I dump a hollow-point slug in
are left in limbo
'Cause one loco bro chose to dispose of you
And your skinhead crew
I ain't a house nigga with a twenty-two
I dump a hollow-point
bumpin' the 15, night time got parlay, plucka
Plucka, in the mix now ya cocksucka,
I never leave it alone home, I love a big baked roll, in your
Face freak
this nigga lets go
Get set, go, which you do, crews screwed, I blew through
Two crews who claim they got funk, may be true cos they doo-doo
bitch and I'll be
The motherfuckin' host with the most dick
So now you know it ain't a damn thing changed up
Stayin' true to the streets since we came
And do a thing but a rock and shuffle your feet
And let it change up to a dance called The Freak
And when ya finally do come into your rhythmic beat
big tires tear up the streets, rwar
Looking at your kid, I might be the papi (sheesh)
Sixty-five pointers in the Cuban sheesh (damn, whoa, sheesh)
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