| 作词 : Bailey, Coles, Dumile | |
| Aiyyo, turn those lights down while | |
| I'm recording! | |
| Matter 'fact y'all niggaz get the **** out the room, | |
| G!Straight up! | |
| Sipping on that bullshit | |
| Budweiser! | |
| Nah'mean yo.. what? | |
| **** you too nigga!' | |
| Kind of pants you got on mother****er, | |
| Capris?!Bitch ass nigga, go get ya feet done! | |
| Eat a dick nigga![Verse 1] | |
| Catch me in the 80's drop | |
| Old school | |
| Mercedes with a brand new baby glock | |
| Right from my | |
| Lady's sock with two bodies on it | |
| Capricorn, | |
| AquariusLost so much blood, these bitch niggaz in they periods | |
| They say I be living the role, like ' | |
| Pac in Juice | |
| And only **** with fly bitches that get fly and boost | |
| And they ears be chandelliers, lit up like a lamp, | |
| Who cares?! | |
| They cooch is fierce, the only thing loose is hairs | |
| Thats right y'all, if a rap nigga say my name | |
| I'm a fight y'all | |
| **** a state, light charge | |
| My predicate status, irrelevant | |
| My man got the big rap sheet that's outweighing two elephants | |
| Jumbo shits from | |
| New Orleans | |
| Players and | |
| Pimps that bit off | |
| FiendsQuick, switch with the hands, | |
| Powder blue wally's is dyed, | |
| Vanilla bally's is mean | |
| Kid, none of y'all mother****ers **** with my team, | |
| Uh![Chorus: Trife Da God] | |
| Aiyyo we the live niggaz holdin heat on the street corners | |
| Sic the beasts on you, turning mothers to morners | |
| Money launderers, neighborhood coroners, place bodies in bags | |
| Tango with dirty | |
| Cash, Cocaine jacks"Kings of the Hill", out to blow like propane gas | |
| Package the raw, | |
| Theodore, | |
| We got the game on smash' | |
| Cause we cut from the same cloth | |
| Big guns ready to bang off | |
| Slide off the cables and take the rings off![Verse 2] | |
| We hold the weight of four | |
| Synagogues | |
| Jelly'd uptown in them beat down rented cars | |
| Going mad wetting 'em | |
| Milk cash, heavy tecks, hood rats, sexin 'em | |
| Paris crew, little dudes, please!, | |
| I was reppin 'em | |
| Niggaz couldn't come through (word) | |
| Thats when the block was like wallpaper, loved sticking niggaz like crazy glue | |
| Blackouts happened, | |
| God forbid don't be around! | |
| The Bag Lady will murk you and let off in the next town! | |
| She struck two times, get caught, good luck blood, it ain't no heines | |
| Blow a hockey puck hole in the back of your spine | |
| She put two cut up mirrors in the place of your eyes | |
| So when the cops look they see theyselves, they all gonna die | |
| Its the tale of the crips and bloods, pimps and thugs | |
| Get your face bashed in on the concrete rugon that note | |
| I'm a say peace! | |
| Theodore! | |
| Word to Darryl | |
| Mack's teeth![Chorus][Verse 3] | |
| Yo, Ayo I'll break every bone in your wrist | |
| Smack you in the back of your head on the block while you holding your dick | |
| My semi, they call it the crouching tiger | |
| A hundred bowls of | |
| Total is trash, because my lead eat through fibers | |
| Peel your potato like | |
| ArriadaOn the day of your death people had candles but couldnt find no lighter | |
| **** your marrow! **** your hood! | |
| You ain't a street legend like me! | |
| Blake Carrington holding the | |
| DynastyI muffle mother****ers up like meinekeand write a thousand bar verse that all rhymes with "eat" | |
| Jewel theif, | |
| Shizzam bangles, in the vault deep | |
| And cruisin desserts mad heavy into salt treats | |
| Im the taste in | |
| Bush's mouth, nasty | |
| Afghanistan missions, gun training in the grassy fatigues | |
| Picking niggaz off by the | |
| Red SeaAnd did it all for | |
| Ghost, sniffin on caffeine! |
| zuo ci : Bailey, Coles, Dumile | |
| Aiyyo, turn those lights down while | |
| I' m recording! | |
| Matter ' fact y' all niggaz get the out the room, | |
| G! Straight up! | |
| Sipping on that bullshit | |
| Budweiser! | |
| Nah' mean yo.. what? | |
| you too nigga!' | |
| Kind of pants you got on mother er, | |
| Capris?! Bitch ass nigga, go get ya feet done! | |
| Eat a dick nigga! Verse 1 | |
| Catch me in the 80' s drop | |
| Old school | |
| Mercedes with a brand new baby glock | |
| Right from my | |
| Lady' s sock with two bodies on it | |
| Capricorn, | |
| AquariusLost so much blood, these bitch niggaz in they periods | |
| They say I be living the role, like ' | |
| Pac in Juice | |
| And only with fly bitches that get fly and boost | |
| And they ears be chandelliers, lit up like a lamp, | |
| Who cares?! | |
| They cooch is fierce, the only thing loose is hairs | |
| Thats right y' all, if a rap nigga say my name | |
| I' m a fight y' all | |
| a state, light charge | |
| My predicate status, irrelevant | |
| My man got the big rap sheet that' s outweighing two elephants | |
| Jumbo shits from | |
| New Orleans | |
| Players and | |
| Pimps that bit off | |
| FiendsQuick, switch with the hands, | |
| Powder blue wally' s is dyed, | |
| Vanilla bally' s is mean | |
| Kid, none of y' all mother ers with my team, | |
| Uh! Chorus: Trife Da God | |
| Aiyyo we the live niggaz holdin heat on the street corners | |
| Sic the beasts on you, turning mothers to morners | |
| Money launderers, neighborhood coroners, place bodies in bags | |
| Tango with dirty | |
| Cash, Cocaine jacks" Kings of the Hill", out to blow like propane gas | |
| Package the raw, | |
| Theodore, | |
| We got the game on smash' | |
| Cause we cut from the same cloth | |
| Big guns ready to bang off | |
| Slide off the cables and take the rings off! Verse 2 | |
| We hold the weight of four | |
| Synagogues | |
| Jelly' d uptown in them beat down rented cars | |
| Going mad wetting ' em | |
| Milk cash, heavy tecks, hood rats, sexin ' em | |
| Paris crew, little dudes, please!, | |
| I was reppin ' em | |
| Niggaz couldn' t come through word | |
| Thats when the block was like wallpaper, loved sticking niggaz like crazy glue | |
| Blackouts happened, | |
| God forbid don' t be around! | |
| The Bag Lady will murk you and let off in the next town! | |
| She struck two times, get caught, good luck blood, it ain' t no heines | |
| Blow a hockey puck hole in the back of your spine | |
| She put two cut up mirrors in the place of your eyes | |
| So when the cops look they see theyselves, they all gonna die | |
| Its the tale of the crips and bloods, pimps and thugs | |
| Get your face bashed in on the concrete rugon that note | |
| I' m a say peace! | |
| Theodore! | |
| Word to Darryl | |
| Mack' s teeth! Chorus Verse 3 | |
| Yo, Ayo I' ll break every bone in your wrist | |
| Smack you in the back of your head on the block while you holding your dick | |
| My semi, they call it the crouching tiger | |
| A hundred bowls of | |
| Total is trash, because my lead eat through fibers | |
| Peel your potato like | |
| ArriadaOn the day of your death people had candles but couldnt find no lighter | |
| your marrow! your hood! | |
| You ain' t a street legend like me! | |
| Blake Carrington holding the | |
| DynastyI muffle mother ers up like meinekeand write a thousand bar verse that all rhymes with " eat" | |
| Jewel theif, | |
| Shizzam bangles, in the vault deep | |
| And cruisin desserts mad heavy into salt treats | |
| Im the taste in | |
| Bush' s mouth, nasty | |
| Afghanistan missions, gun training in the grassy fatigues | |
| Picking niggaz off by the | |
| Red SeaAnd did it all for | |
| Ghost, sniffin on caffeine! |
| zuò cí : Bailey, Coles, Dumile | |
| Aiyyo, turn those lights down while | |
| I' m recording! | |
| Matter ' fact y' all niggaz get the out the room, | |
| G! Straight up! | |
| Sipping on that bullshit | |
| Budweiser! | |
| Nah' mean yo.. what? | |
| you too nigga!' | |
| Kind of pants you got on mother er, | |
| Capris?! Bitch ass nigga, go get ya feet done! | |
| Eat a dick nigga! Verse 1 | |
| Catch me in the 80' s drop | |
| Old school | |
| Mercedes with a brand new baby glock | |
| Right from my | |
| Lady' s sock with two bodies on it | |
| Capricorn, | |
| AquariusLost so much blood, these bitch niggaz in they periods | |
| They say I be living the role, like ' | |
| Pac in Juice | |
| And only with fly bitches that get fly and boost | |
| And they ears be chandelliers, lit up like a lamp, | |
| Who cares?! | |
| They cooch is fierce, the only thing loose is hairs | |
| Thats right y' all, if a rap nigga say my name | |
| I' m a fight y' all | |
| a state, light charge | |
| My predicate status, irrelevant | |
| My man got the big rap sheet that' s outweighing two elephants | |
| Jumbo shits from | |
| New Orleans | |
| Players and | |
| Pimps that bit off | |
| FiendsQuick, switch with the hands, | |
| Powder blue wally' s is dyed, | |
| Vanilla bally' s is mean | |
| Kid, none of y' all mother ers with my team, | |
| Uh! Chorus: Trife Da God | |
| Aiyyo we the live niggaz holdin heat on the street corners | |
| Sic the beasts on you, turning mothers to morners | |
| Money launderers, neighborhood coroners, place bodies in bags | |
| Tango with dirty | |
| Cash, Cocaine jacks" Kings of the Hill", out to blow like propane gas | |
| Package the raw, | |
| Theodore, | |
| We got the game on smash' | |
| Cause we cut from the same cloth | |
| Big guns ready to bang off | |
| Slide off the cables and take the rings off! Verse 2 | |
| We hold the weight of four | |
| Synagogues | |
| Jelly' d uptown in them beat down rented cars | |
| Going mad wetting ' em | |
| Milk cash, heavy tecks, hood rats, sexin ' em | |
| Paris crew, little dudes, please!, | |
| I was reppin ' em | |
| Niggaz couldn' t come through word | |
| Thats when the block was like wallpaper, loved sticking niggaz like crazy glue | |
| Blackouts happened, | |
| God forbid don' t be around! | |
| The Bag Lady will murk you and let off in the next town! | |
| She struck two times, get caught, good luck blood, it ain' t no heines | |
| Blow a hockey puck hole in the back of your spine | |
| She put two cut up mirrors in the place of your eyes | |
| So when the cops look they see theyselves, they all gonna die | |
| Its the tale of the crips and bloods, pimps and thugs | |
| Get your face bashed in on the concrete rugon that note | |
| I' m a say peace! | |
| Theodore! | |
| Word to Darryl | |
| Mack' s teeth! Chorus Verse 3 | |
| Yo, Ayo I' ll break every bone in your wrist | |
| Smack you in the back of your head on the block while you holding your dick | |
| My semi, they call it the crouching tiger | |
| A hundred bowls of | |
| Total is trash, because my lead eat through fibers | |
| Peel your potato like | |
| ArriadaOn the day of your death people had candles but couldnt find no lighter | |
| your marrow! your hood! | |
| You ain' t a street legend like me! | |
| Blake Carrington holding the | |
| DynastyI muffle mother ers up like meinekeand write a thousand bar verse that all rhymes with " eat" | |
| Jewel theif, | |
| Shizzam bangles, in the vault deep | |
| And cruisin desserts mad heavy into salt treats | |
| Im the taste in | |
| Bush' s mouth, nasty | |
| Afghanistan missions, gun training in the grassy fatigues | |
| Picking niggaz off by the | |
| Red SeaAnd did it all for | |
| Ghost, sniffin on caffeine! |
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