Clan's, Posse's, Crew's & Clik's Lyrics
| Song | Clan's, Posse's, Crew's & Clik's |
| Artist | Heltah Skeltah |
| Album | Nocturnal |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Bush, Deligarde, Price | |
| [Rock] Aiyyo Son (yo) aiyyo come downstairs Son (what?) | |
| [batty bwoy] Asshole, asshole, asshole! | |
| [Rock] There's like six bitch-ass niggaz on the corner Son | |
| (Aiyyo word?) These niggaz is rappin, kickin raps n shit | |
| Can't tell these niggaz they ain't hype | |
| They punk smoove bullshit, just meet me downstairs Son | |
| I'ma set it on these niggaz Son | |
| [Ruck] Yo I'ma be right there man, I'm gettin dressed now | |
| [Rock] These niggaz have no idea Son, check it check it | |
| [Verse One: Rock, Ruck] | |
| And one time for your mind, one time for the snitch droppin dime | |
| Me don't wanna hear you whine when my nine's to your spine | |
| Glock diss, Rocky, Mountain, energy's from my | |
| Fountain of youth runnin through my brain pounded | |
| So don't be found in my clutches | |
| If you don't who Sparsky is, then you don't know who Dutch is | |
| Don't get snuffed kid, we cause ruckus | |
| And rock mad domes while we at it who's the first up | |
| To see blackness like the universe | |
| Fuck that, niggaz better start runnin for shelter | |
| Live and direct with a nine tenth that's that nigga from Heltah Skeltah | |
| Word em up I murder ducks who never heard of Ruck plus | |
| My mind ills on rhyme skills with the nine that I buck (blahhh) | |
| Girls demand me, mad bitches I slam the | |
| Microphone you hand me till the judge remand me (what) | |
| Can we, get along like Rodney, and Rock please | |
| Put these niggaz in they proper place cause you cocky | |
| I, be the drama bringer wringer of a niggaz neck | |
| Wrecker of a set I buck shots with a steel tec | |
| Wussy, where's all them suckers talkin tracks bout they RnRin | |
| (They heard us comin and turned to track stars, check it) | |
| I be, never sloppy, I be ROTC | |
| I rock heads from Bedrock to Yugoslav-ia | |
| Robbin you and your crew blind yeah we do crimes | |
| Find that Absolut's fine, or in to behind | |
| Now you whine, but yo stop the blood clot cryin | |
| Like Screwface, I in the mood to bash your eyes in | |
| Devils does know who I am, madman from Heltah Skeltah | |
| Mr. Flipster, ROCK, Grandson of Sam | |
| As the World Turns in my search for tomorrow | |
| I seek the God in life, for some insight | |
| Freaky like a golden shower when my golden bowels | |
| Hit instrumentals get influential like Colin Powell, now | |
| Fuck the world, stick my dick in the dirt | |
| Pull tunes on spooks who claim I ain't cool like Levert | |
| Expert when I network my lyrics like a rebel | |
| Vexed cause the devil never take me to that next level | |
| It's never humble in asphault jungles | |
| When you slang rocks and Ricans in back deal with bundles | |
| Some may wonder, the evil these two men do, torment you | |
| Lyrical landlord, your fuckin rent due | |
| [Chorus:] | |
| Clans, posses, crews and kliks | |
| All y'all bitch niggaz can suck my dick | |
| Kliks, posses, crews and clans | |
| Can't none of y'all niggaz fuck with me and my man | |
| [Verse Two: Rock, Ruck] | |
| Aiyyo, one's for the, shots I pop | |
| Two's for the anti-real snakes I fought and dropped | |
| Three's for the irrational Ruck, bitch! | |
| I be Rock and the four's for hip-hop cause with this shit we rip shop | |
| Ask me how foul I am, mannn you know damn well | |
| It was me that hit your bitch up in my man's van | |
| Too plexed your grand-pops then like corn I pop shit | |
| You can't flush, fuckin with us you're smacked with hock spit | |
| Who dare square with Rock me I break you | |
| Tree times worse dan a bumba claat earthquake do | |
| Heltah Skeltah is hectic hit the deck then step | |
| If you wanna hear your neck click | |
| See this center, but really play no basketball | |
| I do my shootin with a motherfuckin mac you fall | |
| To the floor, OGC hit up everything that come through the door | |
| Recognize Heltah Skeltah mean war | |
| So what's the reason for the treason, punk you wanna die | |
| My mind crucify those who try to defy | |
| God cipher devine drop bombs on the blind | |
| In the mood to get rude with the lyrics instead of my nine (hah) | |
| Now I (what) want a nigga to come with hand skills | |
| Man chill, might end up in a landfill | |
| Stand still, nigga you know the position | |
| Glocks clickin from niggaz who ain't got pots to piss in | |
| Plus I get hyped when my mic strikes windpipes | |
| Me and Rock is this tight (there'll never be no fist fights) | |
| You're lip punks when my fifth smokes the rich folks | |
| Who sniff coke, now your bitch broke ain't no misquote | |
| I just spoke, wicked ways with words of wisdom | |
| Like Cyclops I spot fly shots with ill vision | |
| Similar to none Son so it fuckin seem | |
| Savages get sewn the fuck up with shots to they spleen | |
| [Chorus: x4] |
| zuo qu : Bush, Deligarde, Price | |
| Rock Aiyyo Son yo aiyyo come downstairs Son what? | |
| batty bwoy Asshole, asshole, asshole! | |
| Rock There' s like six bitchass niggaz on the corner Son | |
| Aiyyo word? These niggaz is rappin, kickin raps n shit | |
| Can' t tell these niggaz they ain' t hype | |
| They punk smoove bullshit, just meet me downstairs Son | |
| I' ma set it on these niggaz Son | |
| Ruck Yo I' ma be right there man, I' m gettin dressed now | |
| Rock These niggaz have no idea Son, check it check it | |
| Verse One: Rock, Ruck | |
| And one time for your mind, one time for the snitch droppin dime | |
| Me don' t wanna hear you whine when my nine' s to your spine | |
| Glock diss, Rocky, Mountain, energy' s from my | |
| Fountain of youth runnin through my brain pounded | |
| So don' t be found in my clutches | |
| If you don' t who Sparsky is, then you don' t know who Dutch is | |
| Don' t get snuffed kid, we cause ruckus | |
| And rock mad domes while we at it who' s the first up | |
| To see blackness like the universe | |
| Fuck that, niggaz better start runnin for shelter | |
| Live and direct with a nine tenth that' s that nigga from Heltah Skeltah | |
| Word em up I murder ducks who never heard of Ruck plus | |
| My mind ills on rhyme skills with the nine that I buck blahhh | |
| Girls demand me, mad bitches I slam the | |
| Microphone you hand me till the judge remand me what | |
| Can we, get along like Rodney, and Rock please | |
| Put these niggaz in they proper place cause you cocky | |
| I, be the drama bringer wringer of a niggaz neck | |
| Wrecker of a set I buck shots with a steel tec | |
| Wussy, where' s all them suckers talkin tracks bout they RnRin | |
| They heard us comin and turned to track stars, check it | |
| I be, never sloppy, I be ROTC | |
| I rock heads from Bedrock to Yugoslavia | |
| Robbin you and your crew blind yeah we do crimes | |
| Find that Absolut' s fine, or in to behind | |
| Now you whine, but yo stop the blood clot cryin | |
| Like Screwface, I in the mood to bash your eyes in | |
| Devils does know who I am, madman from Heltah Skeltah | |
| Mr. Flipster, ROCK, Grandson of Sam | |
| As the World Turns in my search for tomorrow | |
| I seek the God in life, for some insight | |
| Freaky like a golden shower when my golden bowels | |
| Hit instrumentals get influential like Colin Powell, now | |
| Fuck the world, stick my dick in the dirt | |
| Pull tunes on spooks who claim I ain' t cool like Levert | |
| Expert when I network my lyrics like a rebel | |
| Vexed cause the devil never take me to that next level | |
| It' s never humble in asphault jungles | |
| When you slang rocks and Ricans in back deal with bundles | |
| Some may wonder, the evil these two men do, torment you | |
| Lyrical landlord, your fuckin rent due | |
| Chorus: | |
| Clans, posses, crews and kliks | |
| All y' all bitch niggaz can suck my dick | |
| Kliks, posses, crews and clans | |
| Can' t none of y' all niggaz fuck with me and my man | |
| Verse Two: Rock, Ruck | |
| Aiyyo, one' s for the, shots I pop | |
| Two' s for the antireal snakes I fought and dropped | |
| Three' s for the irrational Ruck, bitch! | |
| I be Rock and the four' s for hiphop cause with this shit we rip shop | |
| Ask me how foul I am, mannn you know damn well | |
| It was me that hit your bitch up in my man' s van | |
| Too plexed your grandpops then like corn I pop shit | |
| You can' t flush, fuckin with us you' re smacked with hock spit | |
| Who dare square with Rock me I break you | |
| Tree times worse dan a bumba claat earthquake do | |
| Heltah Skeltah is hectic hit the deck then step | |
| If you wanna hear your neck click | |
| See this center, but really play no basketball | |
| I do my shootin with a motherfuckin mac you fall | |
| To the floor, OGC hit up everything that come through the door | |
| Recognize Heltah Skeltah mean war | |
| So what' s the reason for the treason, punk you wanna die | |
| My mind crucify those who try to defy | |
| God cipher devine drop bombs on the blind | |
| In the mood to get rude with the lyrics instead of my nine hah | |
| Now I what want a nigga to come with hand skills | |
| Man chill, might end up in a landfill | |
| Stand still, nigga you know the position | |
| Glocks clickin from niggaz who ain' t got pots to piss in | |
| Plus I get hyped when my mic strikes windpipes | |
| Me and Rock is this tight there' ll never be no fist fights | |
| You' re lip punks when my fifth smokes the rich folks | |
| Who sniff coke, now your bitch broke ain' t no misquote | |
| I just spoke, wicked ways with words of wisdom | |
| Like Cyclops I spot fly shots with ill vision | |
| Similar to none Son so it fuckin seem | |
| Savages get sewn the fuck up with shots to they spleen | |
| Chorus: x4 |
| zuò qǔ : Bush, Deligarde, Price | |
| Rock Aiyyo Son yo aiyyo come downstairs Son what? | |
| batty bwoy Asshole, asshole, asshole! | |
| Rock There' s like six bitchass niggaz on the corner Son | |
| Aiyyo word? These niggaz is rappin, kickin raps n shit | |
| Can' t tell these niggaz they ain' t hype | |
| They punk smoove bullshit, just meet me downstairs Son | |
| I' ma set it on these niggaz Son | |
| Ruck Yo I' ma be right there man, I' m gettin dressed now | |
| Rock These niggaz have no idea Son, check it check it | |
| Verse One: Rock, Ruck | |
| And one time for your mind, one time for the snitch droppin dime | |
| Me don' t wanna hear you whine when my nine' s to your spine | |
| Glock diss, Rocky, Mountain, energy' s from my | |
| Fountain of youth runnin through my brain pounded | |
| So don' t be found in my clutches | |
| If you don' t who Sparsky is, then you don' t know who Dutch is | |
| Don' t get snuffed kid, we cause ruckus | |
| And rock mad domes while we at it who' s the first up | |
| To see blackness like the universe | |
| Fuck that, niggaz better start runnin for shelter | |
| Live and direct with a nine tenth that' s that nigga from Heltah Skeltah | |
| Word em up I murder ducks who never heard of Ruck plus | |
| My mind ills on rhyme skills with the nine that I buck blahhh | |
| Girls demand me, mad bitches I slam the | |
| Microphone you hand me till the judge remand me what | |
| Can we, get along like Rodney, and Rock please | |
| Put these niggaz in they proper place cause you cocky | |
| I, be the drama bringer wringer of a niggaz neck | |
| Wrecker of a set I buck shots with a steel tec | |
| Wussy, where' s all them suckers talkin tracks bout they RnRin | |
| They heard us comin and turned to track stars, check it | |
| I be, never sloppy, I be ROTC | |
| I rock heads from Bedrock to Yugoslavia | |
| Robbin you and your crew blind yeah we do crimes | |
| Find that Absolut' s fine, or in to behind | |
| Now you whine, but yo stop the blood clot cryin | |
| Like Screwface, I in the mood to bash your eyes in | |
| Devils does know who I am, madman from Heltah Skeltah | |
| Mr. Flipster, ROCK, Grandson of Sam | |
| As the World Turns in my search for tomorrow | |
| I seek the God in life, for some insight | |
| Freaky like a golden shower when my golden bowels | |
| Hit instrumentals get influential like Colin Powell, now | |
| Fuck the world, stick my dick in the dirt | |
| Pull tunes on spooks who claim I ain' t cool like Levert | |
| Expert when I network my lyrics like a rebel | |
| Vexed cause the devil never take me to that next level | |
| It' s never humble in asphault jungles | |
| When you slang rocks and Ricans in back deal with bundles | |
| Some may wonder, the evil these two men do, torment you | |
| Lyrical landlord, your fuckin rent due | |
| Chorus: | |
| Clans, posses, crews and kliks | |
| All y' all bitch niggaz can suck my dick | |
| Kliks, posses, crews and clans | |
| Can' t none of y' all niggaz fuck with me and my man | |
| Verse Two: Rock, Ruck | |
| Aiyyo, one' s for the, shots I pop | |
| Two' s for the antireal snakes I fought and dropped | |
| Three' s for the irrational Ruck, bitch! | |
| I be Rock and the four' s for hiphop cause with this shit we rip shop | |
| Ask me how foul I am, mannn you know damn well | |
| It was me that hit your bitch up in my man' s van | |
| Too plexed your grandpops then like corn I pop shit | |
| You can' t flush, fuckin with us you' re smacked with hock spit | |
| Who dare square with Rock me I break you | |
| Tree times worse dan a bumba claat earthquake do | |
| Heltah Skeltah is hectic hit the deck then step | |
| If you wanna hear your neck click | |
| See this center, but really play no basketball | |
| I do my shootin with a motherfuckin mac you fall | |
| To the floor, OGC hit up everything that come through the door | |
| Recognize Heltah Skeltah mean war | |
| So what' s the reason for the treason, punk you wanna die | |
| My mind crucify those who try to defy | |
| God cipher devine drop bombs on the blind | |
| In the mood to get rude with the lyrics instead of my nine hah | |
| Now I what want a nigga to come with hand skills | |
| Man chill, might end up in a landfill | |
| Stand still, nigga you know the position | |
| Glocks clickin from niggaz who ain' t got pots to piss in | |
| Plus I get hyped when my mic strikes windpipes | |
| Me and Rock is this tight there' ll never be no fist fights | |
| You' re lip punks when my fifth smokes the rich folks | |
| Who sniff coke, now your bitch broke ain' t no misquote | |
| I just spoke, wicked ways with words of wisdom | |
| Like Cyclops I spot fly shots with ill vision | |
| Similar to none Son so it fuckin seem | |
| Savages get sewn the fuck up with shots to they spleen | |
| Chorus: x4 |
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