Lyrics:
the red carpet on y'all bitch asses
Hailing from the filthy, dirty South, where the Kings lay
Ludacris, Disturbin' Tha Peace family
Recognize royalty
on the team, they ain't got no funds
Take that shit off your neck, them are not the ones
Bitch, hit with two pieces, If I ain't got no guns
My third leg in yo
that knowledge for
She dissed me in high school, no reason to acknowledge her
Lead by example, I don't fuck round with no followers
Follow up
the guap so she gonna come this way (ayy)
We got all the funds, drop it this way (yeah)
We got all the ones, shake it this way (what?)
Bitch, diamonds
Seven
Sixty days in we been doing this
The money cover up my eyes like some ray bandz
I'm like five days in we in tuned with this
I done walked
years
I ain't just got ends, I end careers
Cosigned by the allmighty pac
When I drop science like? I'm not lyin'
Put a scar on your face like Simba's
the truth, you can't argue you at all
Tryin' to give you ten years for a phone call
Ain't even trippin' on the dank smoke
Cause all they wanna find is guns
that seven year itch.
Been and put you in a ditch,
An' you're gonna blow your brains out.
Never saw her cheatin',
All you heard was your own poor heart
Trying to get controlled chaos
In my fucking conscious
I'm awesome bitch
Hundreds on me nigga
Boy I never
You're dog shit
Rappers over stumbling
the click! whooooo
[Verse One: Lil' Kim ]
Blessed by the God so I be the Earths
Queen Bee Bitch Poppa keep my rich
In gun tottin' keep floatin' in
bitch got a problem
She don't like me
Don't care to solve 'em
That just ain't me
Two years moved on
I'm with my baby
Baby, baby
Heard that I've been
Lemme tell you a little story
Bout a kid by the name of shorty
First six years smooth
Ninety seven begin to worry
Treated sorry
Abused, starved,
a broken gun
Got you doing more dances than Puffy's son
All you groupies that wanna get took
You gotta be 12 years old with a coloring book
And anybody
what your bout
I know what I'm capable of... Love, nigga
Run up in your house, gun up in your mouth, lights out
Nigga, I'm a shooter, shooter yea
I
loss it aint my fault i gotta job/makin it/ sellin it/ smokin it
that's right every bit by bit/ known everybody in this bitch/
and dont trip if you gonna
back in the slums
I be fine by myself, but I wanna be one
I been thinkin' 'bout death ever since a young buck
I like guns and roses, go with my status
this it`s simple
I drop science on the instrumental
I take seven ill drums put `em in a line
And add seven more snares to make it combine
It`ll take
saluting me like a Soulja
Bitch im juvie
Yea my lil nigga with a big gun
Doing drive bys in a old schoolie
That's you hoe
Yea she mine too
I done seen so
Bobby's goin Digital
Hoverin the city inside the Wonder Woman's invisible jet
Clouded by the Meth we move undetected
in secret society sects,
his eyes so he was
Shot for no reason
Man it's the season
Brothers keep dying
And Mamas keep grieving
Seven year old ain't come home after dark
Blink
bitches, going Kony, bitch
I got an army motherfucker full of only kids
Got a squad of kids about 12 years old
Run in they momma crib put the chrome to her
[Intro]
One, two, Bone is coming for you
Three, four, better lock the doors
Five, six, better load your clips
Seven, eight, we're gonna test your
to me, I'll talk back)
First of all I'ma start by just sayin we can't be fucked with
And you know it!!! (Ooooh)
Got all the whole hood in this motherfucker
niggas ain't folding me
Pop guns like New Years
Pop bottles like New Years
And I got that Hermes you got to wait like two years
I'm so wavy that the mall
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