Posse Song - Explicit Album Version Lyrics
| Song | Posse Song - Explicit Album Version |
| Artist | Project Pat |
| Album | Layin' Da Smack Down (Explicit Version) |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Beauregard, Houston, Houston | |
| Yeah, you know what | |
| I'm sayin' | |
| I wanna send a special shout out to these hypocrites | |
| These mutha****in' fairy informant ass niggaz mayne | |
| You know what | |
| I'm sayin', these muh****in' | |
| Donnie Brascos | |
| These ****in' dick riders, ol' pussy eatin' bullshit ass niggaz | |
| Run they muh****in' mouth, get they muh****in' wig | |
| Split, talkin' all that muh****in' pussy hoe ass shit nigga | |
| We ain't playin' with none of you hoez | |
| Y'all know who | |
| I'm talkin' about **** you bitches | |
| Project Pat light the ****in' track up for these hoes mayne | |
| Hen-hen-O- | |
| Sin make a playa sin, mix it in with that white and gin | |
| Here we go again, | |
| Project Pat gotta keep a strap, haters know | |
| I rapWanna shoot me in my gold teeth, blow me off the map | |
| I attack like a shark would represent this hood | |
| North Memphis, nigga | |
| HollywoodMake it understand in my blood ain't no trakeness | |
| Or no fakeness and no hoe couldn't break this, you can hate this | |
| Dis bitch that bitch, nigga here's the deal | |
| Crunchy ain't runnin' 'round here fakin' deals | |
| Crunchy runnin' 'round here tryna get a meal | |
| Why you fakin' a deal, it don't cost nothin' to be real | |
| All ya gotta do is keep that shit real | |
| Don't be runnin' 'round here hollerin' you got deals | |
| Don't be runnin' 'round here hollerin' that you'll kill | |
| It don't cost nothin' to be real but it costs when ya kill | |
| I'm 'bout to crash into you suckaz like the | |
| World Trade | |
| I'm riding | |
| Green Escalade, full of green grenades | |
| You hoez always hollerin' that we be some bitches and shit | |
| But everytime | |
| I turn around you got our name on your shit | |
| I used to be with them mayne, | |
| I'm still with them | |
| You wish you was with them | |
| How the **** you hate them when you always claimin them? | |
| I think it's funny 'cause ya'll faggots be still calling my studio | |
| Trying to get back, stay who you with 'cuz | |
| I don't need ya hoe | |
| I call up my niggaz we buckin' and tossin' with no mercy hoe | |
| We packin' mass case and decoratin' ya with bullet holes | |
| La Chat I be ready you bustaz ain't got no reeds and shit | |
| That leaves me no choice to grab my glock and go ****a wit | |
| You speak killa talk but ain't no killa in yo blood boi | |
| The infrared be beamin', | |
| I got this scope-a behind your door | |
| You niggaz can't take it you hate the fact that we runnin' it | |
| You ain't gotta love it but you gon learn to respect it bitch | |
| Got some syrup in my cup, got some smoke in my mouth | |
| Got some white in my nose, got your bitch on the couch | |
| Got her head in my lap, trick | |
| I gotta keep it south | |
| Got a problem with | |
| Three 6, gotta blow your brains out | |
| Got that south sowed up, got them guns loaded up | |
| ****in' with the | |
| Scarecrow, that'll get ya blowed up | |
| It's a hold up, everybody fold up | |
| Niggaz talk like they tough but they ain't got no nutts, bitch | |
| I'm shootin' a dike in her breasto, coward in his chesto | |
| And this police nigga, what we call em' | |
| Donnie Brasco | |
| If you bitches want war, you can bring it, let's go | |
| When I put this tone in yo face presto(Click) | |
| A killa in a black coat, goin' to make a mesto | |
| Leave you in da street wit a bloody | |
| Willie Esco | |
| Drankin' on some scotch and we choppin' down that coco | |
| Tryin' to roll some pot in a ****in' optimol-doe | |
| Don't you make the wrong move and you'll get your ass killed dawg | |
| A fake ass nigga but he claimin' that he real dawg | |
| You ain't gotta lie to kick it actin' like you down dawg | |
| Always lookin' lite trying to wear a murder frown dawg | |
| Don't you get smacked and be gettin' off the pavement dawg | |
| Don't you make me act a fool when somebody hatin' me dawg | |
| Hypnotize | |
| Camp Posse got my ****in' back dawg | |
| Frayser Boy will leave you stankin', pop you with that gat dawg | |
| I'm watchin' out for you polices, niggaz who'll tell it | |
| This union will rip your head in pieces, | |
| I know ya feel it | |
| These lyrics just like | |
| Mona Lisas 'cuz you can sell it | |
| The posse click tight like feces, | |
| I know ya smell it | |
| This ghetto hood shit is crucial just like a murder | |
| You step, whoa, then we shoot ya we quick to serve ya | |
| You hate us feelings mutual so don't be scared-a | |
| The HCP will do ya mayne, we gon hurtcha |
| zuo qu : Beauregard, Houston, Houston | |
| Yeah, you know what | |
| I' m sayin' | |
| I wanna send a special shout out to these hypocrites | |
| These mutha in' fairy informant ass niggaz mayne | |
| You know what | |
| I' m sayin', these muh in' | |
| Donnie Brascos | |
| These in' dick riders, ol' pussy eatin' bullshit ass niggaz | |
| Run they muh in' mouth, get they muh in' wig | |
| Split, talkin' all that muh in' pussy hoe ass shit nigga | |
| We ain' t playin' with none of you hoez | |
| Y' all know who | |
| I' m talkin' about you bitches | |
| Project Pat light the in' track up for these hoes mayne | |
| HenhenO | |
| Sin make a playa sin, mix it in with that white and gin | |
| Here we go again, | |
| Project Pat gotta keep a strap, haters know | |
| I rapWanna shoot me in my gold teeth, blow me off the map | |
| I attack like a shark would represent this hood | |
| North Memphis, nigga | |
| HollywoodMake it understand in my blood ain' t no trakeness | |
| Or no fakeness and no hoe couldn' t break this, you can hate this | |
| Dis bitch that bitch, nigga here' s the deal | |
| Crunchy ain' t runnin' ' round here fakin' deals | |
| Crunchy runnin' ' round here tryna get a meal | |
| Why you fakin' a deal, it don' t cost nothin' to be real | |
| All ya gotta do is keep that shit real | |
| Don' t be runnin' ' round here hollerin' you got deals | |
| Don' t be runnin' ' round here hollerin' that you' ll kill | |
| It don' t cost nothin' to be real but it costs when ya kill | |
| I' m ' bout to crash into you suckaz like the | |
| World Trade | |
| I' m riding | |
| Green Escalade, full of green grenades | |
| You hoez always hollerin' that we be some bitches and shit | |
| But everytime | |
| I turn around you got our name on your shit | |
| I used to be with them mayne, | |
| I' m still with them | |
| You wish you was with them | |
| How the you hate them when you always claimin them? | |
| I think it' s funny ' cause ya' ll faggots be still calling my studio | |
| Trying to get back, stay who you with ' cuz | |
| I don' t need ya hoe | |
| I call up my niggaz we buckin' and tossin' with no mercy hoe | |
| We packin' mass case and decoratin' ya with bullet holes | |
| La Chat I be ready you bustaz ain' t got no reeds and shit | |
| That leaves me no choice to grab my glock and go a wit | |
| You speak killa talk but ain' t no killa in yo blood boi | |
| The infrared be beamin', | |
| I got this scopea behind your door | |
| You niggaz can' t take it you hate the fact that we runnin' it | |
| You ain' t gotta love it but you gon learn to respect it bitch | |
| Got some syrup in my cup, got some smoke in my mouth | |
| Got some white in my nose, got your bitch on the couch | |
| Got her head in my lap, trick | |
| I gotta keep it south | |
| Got a problem with | |
| Three 6, gotta blow your brains out | |
| Got that south sowed up, got them guns loaded up | |
| in' with the | |
| Scarecrow, that' ll get ya blowed up | |
| It' s a hold up, everybody fold up | |
| Niggaz talk like they tough but they ain' t got no nutts, bitch | |
| I' m shootin' a dike in her breasto, coward in his chesto | |
| And this police nigga, what we call em' | |
| Donnie Brasco | |
| If you bitches want war, you can bring it, let' s go | |
| When I put this tone in yo face presto Click | |
| A killa in a black coat, goin' to make a mesto | |
| Leave you in da street wit a bloody | |
| Willie Esco | |
| Drankin' on some scotch and we choppin' down that coco | |
| Tryin' to roll some pot in a in' optimoldoe | |
| Don' t you make the wrong move and you' ll get your ass killed dawg | |
| A fake ass nigga but he claimin' that he real dawg | |
| You ain' t gotta lie to kick it actin' like you down dawg | |
| Always lookin' lite trying to wear a murder frown dawg | |
| Don' t you get smacked and be gettin' off the pavement dawg | |
| Don' t you make me act a fool when somebody hatin' me dawg | |
| Hypnotize | |
| Camp Posse got my in' back dawg | |
| Frayser Boy will leave you stankin', pop you with that gat dawg | |
| I' m watchin' out for you polices, niggaz who' ll tell it | |
| This union will rip your head in pieces, | |
| I know ya feel it | |
| These lyrics just like | |
| Mona Lisas ' cuz you can sell it | |
| The posse click tight like feces, | |
| I know ya smell it | |
| This ghetto hood shit is crucial just like a murder | |
| You step, whoa, then we shoot ya we quick to serve ya | |
| You hate us feelings mutual so don' t be scareda | |
| The HCP will do ya mayne, we gon hurtcha |
| zuò qǔ : Beauregard, Houston, Houston | |
| Yeah, you know what | |
| I' m sayin' | |
| I wanna send a special shout out to these hypocrites | |
| These mutha in' fairy informant ass niggaz mayne | |
| You know what | |
| I' m sayin', these muh in' | |
| Donnie Brascos | |
| These in' dick riders, ol' pussy eatin' bullshit ass niggaz | |
| Run they muh in' mouth, get they muh in' wig | |
| Split, talkin' all that muh in' pussy hoe ass shit nigga | |
| We ain' t playin' with none of you hoez | |
| Y' all know who | |
| I' m talkin' about you bitches | |
| Project Pat light the in' track up for these hoes mayne | |
| HenhenO | |
| Sin make a playa sin, mix it in with that white and gin | |
| Here we go again, | |
| Project Pat gotta keep a strap, haters know | |
| I rapWanna shoot me in my gold teeth, blow me off the map | |
| I attack like a shark would represent this hood | |
| North Memphis, nigga | |
| HollywoodMake it understand in my blood ain' t no trakeness | |
| Or no fakeness and no hoe couldn' t break this, you can hate this | |
| Dis bitch that bitch, nigga here' s the deal | |
| Crunchy ain' t runnin' ' round here fakin' deals | |
| Crunchy runnin' ' round here tryna get a meal | |
| Why you fakin' a deal, it don' t cost nothin' to be real | |
| All ya gotta do is keep that shit real | |
| Don' t be runnin' ' round here hollerin' you got deals | |
| Don' t be runnin' ' round here hollerin' that you' ll kill | |
| It don' t cost nothin' to be real but it costs when ya kill | |
| I' m ' bout to crash into you suckaz like the | |
| World Trade | |
| I' m riding | |
| Green Escalade, full of green grenades | |
| You hoez always hollerin' that we be some bitches and shit | |
| But everytime | |
| I turn around you got our name on your shit | |
| I used to be with them mayne, | |
| I' m still with them | |
| You wish you was with them | |
| How the you hate them when you always claimin them? | |
| I think it' s funny ' cause ya' ll faggots be still calling my studio | |
| Trying to get back, stay who you with ' cuz | |
| I don' t need ya hoe | |
| I call up my niggaz we buckin' and tossin' with no mercy hoe | |
| We packin' mass case and decoratin' ya with bullet holes | |
| La Chat I be ready you bustaz ain' t got no reeds and shit | |
| That leaves me no choice to grab my glock and go a wit | |
| You speak killa talk but ain' t no killa in yo blood boi | |
| The infrared be beamin', | |
| I got this scopea behind your door | |
| You niggaz can' t take it you hate the fact that we runnin' it | |
| You ain' t gotta love it but you gon learn to respect it bitch | |
| Got some syrup in my cup, got some smoke in my mouth | |
| Got some white in my nose, got your bitch on the couch | |
| Got her head in my lap, trick | |
| I gotta keep it south | |
| Got a problem with | |
| Three 6, gotta blow your brains out | |
| Got that south sowed up, got them guns loaded up | |
| in' with the | |
| Scarecrow, that' ll get ya blowed up | |
| It' s a hold up, everybody fold up | |
| Niggaz talk like they tough but they ain' t got no nutts, bitch | |
| I' m shootin' a dike in her breasto, coward in his chesto | |
| And this police nigga, what we call em' | |
| Donnie Brasco | |
| If you bitches want war, you can bring it, let' s go | |
| When I put this tone in yo face presto Click | |
| A killa in a black coat, goin' to make a mesto | |
| Leave you in da street wit a bloody | |
| Willie Esco | |
| Drankin' on some scotch and we choppin' down that coco | |
| Tryin' to roll some pot in a in' optimoldoe | |
| Don' t you make the wrong move and you' ll get your ass killed dawg | |
| A fake ass nigga but he claimin' that he real dawg | |
| You ain' t gotta lie to kick it actin' like you down dawg | |
| Always lookin' lite trying to wear a murder frown dawg | |
| Don' t you get smacked and be gettin' off the pavement dawg | |
| Don' t you make me act a fool when somebody hatin' me dawg | |
| Hypnotize | |
| Camp Posse got my in' back dawg | |
| Frayser Boy will leave you stankin', pop you with that gat dawg | |
| I' m watchin' out for you polices, niggaz who' ll tell it | |
| This union will rip your head in pieces, | |
| I know ya feel it | |
| These lyrics just like | |
| Mona Lisas ' cuz you can sell it | |
| The posse click tight like feces, | |
| I know ya smell it | |
| This ghetto hood shit is crucial just like a murder | |
| You step, whoa, then we shoot ya we quick to serve ya | |
| You hate us feelings mutual so don' t be scareda | |
| The HCP will do ya mayne, we gon hurtcha |
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