| 作曲 : Corey Woods/Dennis Coles/Burt Bacharach/Peter Phillips | |
| 作词 : Hal David | |
| [Intro] Holllllllld it! | |
| Now you get out of here, | |
| I'm warning you (You bastards can't push us around - wanna fight?) | |
| I'll take you on [Raekwon] | |
| That nigga's twisted | |
| Stop playin with that clip man | |
| Close them ****in blinds too man, y'knahmsayin? | |
| Yo Don my man, get out of the stove man | |
| Get away from the stove nigga | |
| Stop playin man, the **** is you talkin 'bout? | |
| I'm in the crib watchin | |
| Larry King | |
| Live, the new | |
| Guccis on | |
| Refridgerator, smokin some kush, this nigga's a lighter | |
| Swisher, becomin a roach, go get the glass ashtray | |
| Pour the glass of | |
| Crut, tap the bottle then toast | |
| Barrie took a sip of the coors, yeah my son | |
| Soon to be 3, tried to fill his bottle then run | |
| Then I got a collect call, heard niggaz down the block is fightin | |
| Some nigga got knifed up brawlin | |
| Heard the kid was 19, | |
| Lil' Infinity too | |
| His father worked up at the dealer he loved | |
| Wu They tried him for his | |
| Louis', son wasn't havin it though | |
| Yeah, yeah my nigga, the color of glue | |
| Decided on a intervene, guess who tried to wild on me my nigga | |
| This is like out of the blue | |
| I'm in the | |
| Range stretch, jumped out, tucked the chain | |
| Proceded to talk to him, then you heard the heavy face slap | |
| Think I broke my wrist, now | |
| I'm at the hospital vexed | |
| ****ed up my writing hand, that's my check | |
| Now I wanna kill this lil' nigga true | |
| Only thing that stop my gun flamin cause he related to you [Ghostface] | |
| Who? He ain't related to me | |
| Just that | |
| I knew him for like 18 years until he violated, stealin my gear | |
| My lil' homey, yo he eat anything for me | |
| Send him uptown, he get bagged, yo he never call me | |
| Come home and still blow cats for me | |
| Pump crack, stabbin all them hoodrat shorties | |
| A live gunslinger well known, born to dance | |
| When the heat is on, | |
| Stapleton days, shoot hisself in the groin | |
| The gun went off, it looked like a flick | |
| When he fell to the floor, holdin his nuts, screamin "God damnit Shit I put one in my balls, what the **** y'all lookin at me for? Call the police, do somethin Mother****ers standin around, watch when I get better All hell's gonna be terror Death to you, you," he pointed at | |
| Red I said chill that's fam duke | |
| He put real work in that make you puke, **** that | |
| But anyway son indeed, he stole two | |
| Polo rugbies | |
| Swore to his dead mother, | |
| I couldn't take it | |
| Yo Lord I knocked out his teeth | |
| Now he's rockin those false joints like everything's peace |
| zuo qu : Corey Woods Dennis Coles Burt Bacharach Peter Phillips | |
| zuo ci : Hal David | |
| Intro Holllllllld it! | |
| Now you get out of here, | |
| I' m warning you You bastards can' t push us around wanna fight? | |
| I' ll take you on Raekwon | |
| That nigga' s twisted | |
| Stop playin with that clip man | |
| Close them in blinds too man, y' knahmsayin? | |
| Yo Don my man, get out of the stove man | |
| Get away from the stove nigga | |
| Stop playin man, the is you talkin ' bout? | |
| I' m in the crib watchin | |
| Larry King | |
| Live, the new | |
| Guccis on | |
| Refridgerator, smokin some kush, this nigga' s a lighter | |
| Swisher, becomin a roach, go get the glass ashtray | |
| Pour the glass of | |
| Crut, tap the bottle then toast | |
| Barrie took a sip of the coors, yeah my son | |
| Soon to be 3, tried to fill his bottle then run | |
| Then I got a collect call, heard niggaz down the block is fightin | |
| Some nigga got knifed up brawlin | |
| Heard the kid was 19, | |
| Lil' Infinity too | |
| His father worked up at the dealer he loved | |
| Wu They tried him for his | |
| Louis', son wasn' t havin it though | |
| Yeah, yeah my nigga, the color of glue | |
| Decided on a intervene, guess who tried to wild on me my nigga | |
| This is like out of the blue | |
| I' m in the | |
| Range stretch, jumped out, tucked the chain | |
| Proceded to talk to him, then you heard the heavy face slap | |
| Think I broke my wrist, now | |
| I' m at the hospital vexed | |
| ed up my writing hand, that' s my check | |
| Now I wanna kill this lil' nigga true | |
| Only thing that stop my gun flamin cause he related to you Ghostface | |
| Who? He ain' t related to me | |
| Just that | |
| I knew him for like 18 years until he violated, stealin my gear | |
| My lil' homey, yo he eat anything for me | |
| Send him uptown, he get bagged, yo he never call me | |
| Come home and still blow cats for me | |
| Pump crack, stabbin all them hoodrat shorties | |
| A live gunslinger well known, born to dance | |
| When the heat is on, | |
| Stapleton days, shoot hisself in the groin | |
| The gun went off, it looked like a flick | |
| When he fell to the floor, holdin his nuts, screamin " God damnit Shit I put one in my balls, what the y' all lookin at me for? Call the police, do somethin Mother ers standin around, watch when I get better All hell' s gonna be terror Death to you, you," he pointed at | |
| Red I said chill that' s fam duke | |
| He put real work in that make you puke, that | |
| But anyway son indeed, he stole two | |
| Polo rugbies | |
| Swore to his dead mother, | |
| I couldn' t take it | |
| Yo Lord I knocked out his teeth | |
| Now he' s rockin those false joints like everything' s peace |
| zuò qǔ : Corey Woods Dennis Coles Burt Bacharach Peter Phillips | |
| zuò cí : Hal David | |
| Intro Holllllllld it! | |
| Now you get out of here, | |
| I' m warning you You bastards can' t push us around wanna fight? | |
| I' ll take you on Raekwon | |
| That nigga' s twisted | |
| Stop playin with that clip man | |
| Close them in blinds too man, y' knahmsayin? | |
| Yo Don my man, get out of the stove man | |
| Get away from the stove nigga | |
| Stop playin man, the is you talkin ' bout? | |
| I' m in the crib watchin | |
| Larry King | |
| Live, the new | |
| Guccis on | |
| Refridgerator, smokin some kush, this nigga' s a lighter | |
| Swisher, becomin a roach, go get the glass ashtray | |
| Pour the glass of | |
| Crut, tap the bottle then toast | |
| Barrie took a sip of the coors, yeah my son | |
| Soon to be 3, tried to fill his bottle then run | |
| Then I got a collect call, heard niggaz down the block is fightin | |
| Some nigga got knifed up brawlin | |
| Heard the kid was 19, | |
| Lil' Infinity too | |
| His father worked up at the dealer he loved | |
| Wu They tried him for his | |
| Louis', son wasn' t havin it though | |
| Yeah, yeah my nigga, the color of glue | |
| Decided on a intervene, guess who tried to wild on me my nigga | |
| This is like out of the blue | |
| I' m in the | |
| Range stretch, jumped out, tucked the chain | |
| Proceded to talk to him, then you heard the heavy face slap | |
| Think I broke my wrist, now | |
| I' m at the hospital vexed | |
| ed up my writing hand, that' s my check | |
| Now I wanna kill this lil' nigga true | |
| Only thing that stop my gun flamin cause he related to you Ghostface | |
| Who? He ain' t related to me | |
| Just that | |
| I knew him for like 18 years until he violated, stealin my gear | |
| My lil' homey, yo he eat anything for me | |
| Send him uptown, he get bagged, yo he never call me | |
| Come home and still blow cats for me | |
| Pump crack, stabbin all them hoodrat shorties | |
| A live gunslinger well known, born to dance | |
| When the heat is on, | |
| Stapleton days, shoot hisself in the groin | |
| The gun went off, it looked like a flick | |
| When he fell to the floor, holdin his nuts, screamin " God damnit Shit I put one in my balls, what the y' all lookin at me for? Call the police, do somethin Mother ers standin around, watch when I get better All hell' s gonna be terror Death to you, you," he pointed at | |
| Red I said chill that' s fam duke | |
| He put real work in that make you puke, that | |
| But anyway son indeed, he stole two | |
| Polo rugbies | |
| Swore to his dead mother, | |
| I couldn' t take it | |
| Yo Lord I knocked out his teeth | |
| Now he' s rockin those false joints like everything' s peace |
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