It's Time I See You - Album Version (Explicit) Lyrics
| Song | It's Time I See You - Album Version (Explicit) |
| Artist | Jadakiss |
| Album | Kiss Tha Game Goodbye |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Green, Jacobs, Jeffers, Martin ... | |
| 作词 : DOZIER, LAMONT/GREEN, SHANDEL/HOLLAND, BRIAN/HOLLAND, EDDIE/JACOBS, SEAN D./JEFFERS, EVE/MARTIN, S/P | |
| Yeah, yeah, yeah | |
| Fuck y'all niggas talkin' 'bout huh? | |
| It's time | |
| I see youGet it right | |
| You faggot niggas heard | |
| Suge Knight | |
| Double R's the only niggas he respect | |
| And y'all niggas shook right? | |
| Y'all get on hot ninety seven and talk wit a baritone | |
| Wit two niggas downstairs wit licensed guns to take y'all home | |
| Scared ass niggas | |
| You thin'k they gon take a life so they can get life | |
| Ask Puff they ain't tryin' to hear that nigga | |
| For no cake, and y'all can get at us on | |
| Labor DayWe make stones that say | |
| Pay your debt and get moms labor day | |
| I'm in the hood so we can link up, any place you think of | |
| Handheld don't hold prints plus | |
| I burnt the tip of my fingers | |
| I'm a Bronx gangsta nigga, double | |
| R's hoodrat | |
| The nigga they come get quick bitch, on this hood shit | |
| Y'all bitches thin'k the ryders a joke, well | |
| I don't play | |
| I blow you whole fuckin' shit up | |
| Like Tim Mc | |
| VeighGimme the needle, not tomorrow, but today | |
| Cross comin' y'all better get the fuck out the way | |
| I ain't the shit that you see that's on the top of your church | |
| I put a bomb in your baby carriage | |
| Brick through your hearse | |
| Tell your | |
| CEO, don't call my | |
| CEO apologizin' | |
| I'm at your wake in the choir | |
| Standin' harmonizin' | |
| It's in'fa red the shit that be on top of the heater | |
| The best thing in | |
| New YorkSince | |
| Steinbrenner signed | |
| JeterHold | |
| Camby sister the hostage, then send 'em a reef | |
| So stop frontin' vegetarian just scared of beef | |
| Yo, ay suck my dick bitch, the way this chick spit ridickliss | |
| Here we go again', only we on kiss shit | |
| We keep comin' and you keep runnin' | |
| You keep claimin' you the best that done it | |
| Pussy let me see somethin', fake niggas screamin' "Ryde or die" | |
| Same niggas we run up on and make 'em cry | |
| Outta all the camps in this game, nigga | |
| We the champs in this game who kick the real shit before the fame | |
| Fuck you fat ass, fake bad ass niggas | |
| Still play the hood while you ride past niggas | |
| Coward trust me we keep it gutter, hope you stay mad a hater' | |
| Cause you can't touch us, huh | |
| It's time | |
| I see youAyo, | |
| I ain't got a care in the world | |
| Kidnappin' your kid, maimin' your mom, and airin' your girl | |
| And like, you ain't got a friend in the world | |
| I'm hopeless and numb, | |
| I can't see but | |
| I can focus my gun | |
| And I'm down for smokin' blunts to the head | |
| My nerves is shot, my paces is short, | |
| I dump in your head | |
| I'm the hardest nigga out you outta know it by now | |
| I'm the nigga that they talk about goin' to | |
| ChaoAnd my name ring bells, my blade stay bloody | |
| If you heard about me beefin' dog | |
| I leave the most shells | |
| The nigga to salute, the quickest to shoot | |
| Holiday Styles, motherfucker, givin' you pound | |
| What? Like | |
| I won't run up and break your jaw | |
| Like they make a vest for your head to stop the four | |
| I'm tired of rappin', let's get the | |
| MackAnd send niggas on vacation | |
| Right in front of the radio station | |
| Motherfuckers ain't quiet 'til the tech go off | |
| Arteries hitted, hawkin', they neck is shit | |
| I'm the motherfuckin' hardest | |
| I smack the shit out of any one | |
| Of your artists whatever the label | |
| Y'all niggas don't want beef, y'all want meat at the table | |
| And I don't give a fuck, | |
| Sheek'll do life in the box | |
| Before any of y'all bitch niggas front on the lox | |
| What? Motherfuckers, c'mon | |
| Yo, If I miss your head and your neck, | |
| I'll hurt your chest | |
| If you from the streets betrayal is worse than death | |
| And I'm known for gettin' money, not known for wildin' | |
| But I'm real | |
| I could rock both phones in the island | |
| This is how we even the bets | |
| I kill everything you love dog, right now, even the pets | |
| Everything got dubs on it, even the vets | |
| Fifty close, then fifty wide, even the sets' | |
| Cause the bullets is like calisthenics when | |
| I'm squirtin' | |
| When they start hurtin', that means they workin' | |
| Only way we comin' is hard | |
| Industry is like jail nigga, double | |
| R's runnin' the yard, uh |
| zuo qu : Green, Jacobs, Jeffers, Martin ... | |
| zuo ci : DOZIER, LAMONT GREEN, SHANDEL HOLLAND, BRIAN HOLLAND, EDDIE JACOBS, SEAN D. JEFFERS, EVE MARTIN, S P | |
| Yeah, yeah, yeah | |
| Fuck y' all niggas talkin' ' bout huh? | |
| It' s time | |
| I see youGet it right | |
| You faggot niggas heard | |
| Suge Knight | |
| Double R' s the only niggas he respect | |
| And y' all niggas shook right? | |
| Y' all get on hot ninety seven and talk wit a baritone | |
| Wit two niggas downstairs wit licensed guns to take y' all home | |
| Scared ass niggas | |
| You thin' k they gon take a life so they can get life | |
| Ask Puff they ain' t tryin' to hear that nigga | |
| For no cake, and y' all can get at us on | |
| Labor DayWe make stones that say | |
| Pay your debt and get moms labor day | |
| I' m in the hood so we can link up, any place you think of | |
| Handheld don' t hold prints plus | |
| I burnt the tip of my fingers | |
| I' m a Bronx gangsta nigga, double | |
| R' s hoodrat | |
| The nigga they come get quick bitch, on this hood shit | |
| Y' all bitches thin' k the ryders a joke, well | |
| I don' t play | |
| I blow you whole fuckin' shit up | |
| Like Tim Mc | |
| VeighGimme the needle, not tomorrow, but today | |
| Cross comin' y' all better get the fuck out the way | |
| I ain' t the shit that you see that' s on the top of your church | |
| I put a bomb in your baby carriage | |
| Brick through your hearse | |
| Tell your | |
| CEO, don' t call my | |
| CEO apologizin' | |
| I' m at your wake in the choir | |
| Standin' harmonizin' | |
| It' s in' fa red the shit that be on top of the heater | |
| The best thing in | |
| New YorkSince | |
| Steinbrenner signed | |
| JeterHold | |
| Camby sister the hostage, then send ' em a reef | |
| So stop frontin' vegetarian just scared of beef | |
| Yo, ay suck my dick bitch, the way this chick spit ridickliss | |
| Here we go again', only we on kiss shit | |
| We keep comin' and you keep runnin' | |
| You keep claimin' you the best that done it | |
| Pussy let me see somethin', fake niggas screamin' " Ryde or die" | |
| Same niggas we run up on and make ' em cry | |
| Outta all the camps in this game, nigga | |
| We the champs in this game who kick the real shit before the fame | |
| Fuck you fat ass, fake bad ass niggas | |
| Still play the hood while you ride past niggas | |
| Coward trust me we keep it gutter, hope you stay mad a hater' | |
| Cause you can' t touch us, huh | |
| It' s time | |
| I see youAyo, | |
| I ain' t got a care in the world | |
| Kidnappin' your kid, maimin' your mom, and airin' your girl | |
| And like, you ain' t got a friend in the world | |
| I' m hopeless and numb, | |
| I can' t see but | |
| I can focus my gun | |
| And I' m down for smokin' blunts to the head | |
| My nerves is shot, my paces is short, | |
| I dump in your head | |
| I' m the hardest nigga out you outta know it by now | |
| I' m the nigga that they talk about goin' to | |
| ChaoAnd my name ring bells, my blade stay bloody | |
| If you heard about me beefin' dog | |
| I leave the most shells | |
| The nigga to salute, the quickest to shoot | |
| Holiday Styles, motherfucker, givin' you pound | |
| What? Like | |
| I won' t run up and break your jaw | |
| Like they make a vest for your head to stop the four | |
| I' m tired of rappin', let' s get the | |
| MackAnd send niggas on vacation | |
| Right in front of the radio station | |
| Motherfuckers ain' t quiet ' til the tech go off | |
| Arteries hitted, hawkin', they neck is shit | |
| I' m the motherfuckin' hardest | |
| I smack the shit out of any one | |
| Of your artists whatever the label | |
| Y' all niggas don' t want beef, y' all want meat at the table | |
| And I don' t give a fuck, | |
| Sheek' ll do life in the box | |
| Before any of y' all bitch niggas front on the lox | |
| What? Motherfuckers, c' mon | |
| Yo, If I miss your head and your neck, | |
| I' ll hurt your chest | |
| If you from the streets betrayal is worse than death | |
| And I' m known for gettin' money, not known for wildin' | |
| But I' m real | |
| I could rock both phones in the island | |
| This is how we even the bets | |
| I kill everything you love dog, right now, even the pets | |
| Everything got dubs on it, even the vets | |
| Fifty close, then fifty wide, even the sets' | |
| Cause the bullets is like calisthenics when | |
| I' m squirtin' | |
| When they start hurtin', that means they workin' | |
| Only way we comin' is hard | |
| Industry is like jail nigga, double | |
| R' s runnin' the yard, uh |
| zuò qǔ : Green, Jacobs, Jeffers, Martin ... | |
| zuò cí : DOZIER, LAMONT GREEN, SHANDEL HOLLAND, BRIAN HOLLAND, EDDIE JACOBS, SEAN D. JEFFERS, EVE MARTIN, S P | |
| Yeah, yeah, yeah | |
| Fuck y' all niggas talkin' ' bout huh? | |
| It' s time | |
| I see youGet it right | |
| You faggot niggas heard | |
| Suge Knight | |
| Double R' s the only niggas he respect | |
| And y' all niggas shook right? | |
| Y' all get on hot ninety seven and talk wit a baritone | |
| Wit two niggas downstairs wit licensed guns to take y' all home | |
| Scared ass niggas | |
| You thin' k they gon take a life so they can get life | |
| Ask Puff they ain' t tryin' to hear that nigga | |
| For no cake, and y' all can get at us on | |
| Labor DayWe make stones that say | |
| Pay your debt and get moms labor day | |
| I' m in the hood so we can link up, any place you think of | |
| Handheld don' t hold prints plus | |
| I burnt the tip of my fingers | |
| I' m a Bronx gangsta nigga, double | |
| R' s hoodrat | |
| The nigga they come get quick bitch, on this hood shit | |
| Y' all bitches thin' k the ryders a joke, well | |
| I don' t play | |
| I blow you whole fuckin' shit up | |
| Like Tim Mc | |
| VeighGimme the needle, not tomorrow, but today | |
| Cross comin' y' all better get the fuck out the way | |
| I ain' t the shit that you see that' s on the top of your church | |
| I put a bomb in your baby carriage | |
| Brick through your hearse | |
| Tell your | |
| CEO, don' t call my | |
| CEO apologizin' | |
| I' m at your wake in the choir | |
| Standin' harmonizin' | |
| It' s in' fa red the shit that be on top of the heater | |
| The best thing in | |
| New YorkSince | |
| Steinbrenner signed | |
| JeterHold | |
| Camby sister the hostage, then send ' em a reef | |
| So stop frontin' vegetarian just scared of beef | |
| Yo, ay suck my dick bitch, the way this chick spit ridickliss | |
| Here we go again', only we on kiss shit | |
| We keep comin' and you keep runnin' | |
| You keep claimin' you the best that done it | |
| Pussy let me see somethin', fake niggas screamin' " Ryde or die" | |
| Same niggas we run up on and make ' em cry | |
| Outta all the camps in this game, nigga | |
| We the champs in this game who kick the real shit before the fame | |
| Fuck you fat ass, fake bad ass niggas | |
| Still play the hood while you ride past niggas | |
| Coward trust me we keep it gutter, hope you stay mad a hater' | |
| Cause you can' t touch us, huh | |
| It' s time | |
| I see youAyo, | |
| I ain' t got a care in the world | |
| Kidnappin' your kid, maimin' your mom, and airin' your girl | |
| And like, you ain' t got a friend in the world | |
| I' m hopeless and numb, | |
| I can' t see but | |
| I can focus my gun | |
| And I' m down for smokin' blunts to the head | |
| My nerves is shot, my paces is short, | |
| I dump in your head | |
| I' m the hardest nigga out you outta know it by now | |
| I' m the nigga that they talk about goin' to | |
| ChaoAnd my name ring bells, my blade stay bloody | |
| If you heard about me beefin' dog | |
| I leave the most shells | |
| The nigga to salute, the quickest to shoot | |
| Holiday Styles, motherfucker, givin' you pound | |
| What? Like | |
| I won' t run up and break your jaw | |
| Like they make a vest for your head to stop the four | |
| I' m tired of rappin', let' s get the | |
| MackAnd send niggas on vacation | |
| Right in front of the radio station | |
| Motherfuckers ain' t quiet ' til the tech go off | |
| Arteries hitted, hawkin', they neck is shit | |
| I' m the motherfuckin' hardest | |
| I smack the shit out of any one | |
| Of your artists whatever the label | |
| Y' all niggas don' t want beef, y' all want meat at the table | |
| And I don' t give a fuck, | |
| Sheek' ll do life in the box | |
| Before any of y' all bitch niggas front on the lox | |
| What? Motherfuckers, c' mon | |
| Yo, If I miss your head and your neck, | |
| I' ll hurt your chest | |
| If you from the streets betrayal is worse than death | |
| And I' m known for gettin' money, not known for wildin' | |
| But I' m real | |
| I could rock both phones in the island | |
| This is how we even the bets | |
| I kill everything you love dog, right now, even the pets | |
| Everything got dubs on it, even the vets | |
| Fifty close, then fifty wide, even the sets' | |
| Cause the bullets is like calisthenics when | |
| I' m squirtin' | |
| When they start hurtin', that means they workin' | |
| Only way we comin' is hard | |
| Industry is like jail nigga, double | |
| R' s runnin' the yard, uh |
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