Don't You Cross the Line Lyrics
| Song | Don't You Cross the Line |
| Artist | Boot Camp Clik |
| Album | The Last Stand |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Augusto, Blake, Bush, Price ... | |
| (Intro-Sean Price) | |
| Pen my mutha *******' rhyme, yeah, what up, what up? | |
| Boot Camp in the house, Sean P, set it off, yo | |
| (Verse 1-Sean Price) | |
| Hey yo, the arm bone connected to the hand bone | |
| *******, the hand bone connected to the damn chrome | |
| Sean is a killer, Monkey Barz, Sean a gorilla | |
| Great ape in the flesh, the Great 8 is the best | |
| Duke, I spit bodies and take name, and take aim | |
| At wack-ass rappers who be thinkin' that they the king | |
| Stop with the lies 'fore I put a knot on your eye | |
| Pop a popular guy, pa, plot your demise | |
| It's not just a rhyme, it's a actual fact | |
| That the God would actually clap at any rapper that's wack | |
| Internet *******s usin' my image, you not Sean | |
| Triple-w-dot-get the ******* on-dot com | |
| (Verse 2-Top Dog) | |
| I'm still G'd up, G.C.'d up | |
| B.C.'d up, blaze the ******* up | |
| Henny in my cup, jump in my truck | |
| Knuck if you buck and bust if I don't trust, so... | |
| Don't You Cross The Line, understand? | |
| Or the gun's in my hand, the gun goes "blam" | |
| My *******t don't jam, murk you and your fam | |
| In a military stance, got you pissin' in your pants | |
| (Verse 3-Rock) | |
| Yo, I roll with a bunch of gun dumpers | |
| You'se a fag, you roll with a bunch of butt munchers | |
| I will ghost you, but won't nobody call no Ghostbusters | |
| Bet if you live, next time you'll call some toast busters | |
| I'm so gutter, since you really shook, I whoop bouncers | |
| My reputation precedes me, they know I could and would | |
| Out countless hood pouncers, I beat fire out of *******s like you | |
| My right hand's a recliner, lean back off that | |
| Track of the pack of your cabbage, fall flat | |
| Smack of the earth, with your staff's jacked before that | |
| Happen, I'm Boot Camp, what you expect from me? | |
| I ain't askin' for love, you ******s better love me | |
| (Hook) | |
| So Don't You Cross The Line, understand? | |
| Or you'll get this, boy, this *******t, boy | |
| Don't you walk around like you raw | |
| Or you'll get hit boy, click, click, boy | |
| Don't You Cross The Line, understand? | |
| Or you'll get this, boy, this *******t, boy | |
| Don't you walk around like you raw | |
| Or you'll get hit boy, click, click, boy | |
| (Verse 4-Buckshot) | |
| Buck is mass murder, I murder the masses | |
| New or old school, I shoot up they classes | |
| *******s need glasses when you lookin' at I | |
| To recognize BDI, I'm a crook 'til I die | |
| ******* y'all, why? I was on the low with no dough | |
| And y'all was like, "Nah, I don't no go" | |
| When y'all had yo flow, now my attitude is so-so | |
| You jealous and you wanna tell po-po, for what, yo? | |
| I don't sell no crack | |
| I don't sell no *******, ******* now or none of that | |
| But, I am here for runnin' rap | |
| I tell you one thing, ******* with that, gun in your back | |
| Boo-ya-ka! Who ya nah? | |
| Buckshot, I was here before Tupac died | |
| No doubt, One Nation, I'm done wastin' time | |
| Now my gun facin' while you wastin' lines, we rise | |
| (Hook) | |
| So Don't You Cross The Line, understand? | |
| Or you'll get this, boy, this *******t, boy | |
| Don't you walk around like you raw | |
| Or you'll get hit boy, click, click, boy | |
| Don't You Cross The Line, understand? | |
| Or you'll get this, boy, this *******t, boy | |
| Don't you walk around like you raw | |
| Or you'll get hit boy, click, click, boy | |
| (Verse 5-Tek) | |
| This little ******* went out for a night on the town | |
| With a cone-head hoodie and a black four-pound | |
| Ran up to the door, told 'em "open it now | |
| 'Fore I ****** back the hammer and blow the *******t down" | |
| Now you see how bad *******s on my ******* | |
| Sayin' what you did to me when you ain't do *******t | |
| 'Cept hide behind your man, cop a plea to my dude | |
| Y'all *******s is sweet, easily become food | |
| So stay in your lane, homes, before them thangs drawn | |
| And it be you and all of your mans gone | |
| (Verse 6-Louieville Sluggah) | |
| Look, ain't nobody doin' a got-damn | |
| Forever B-C-C is the fam | |
| So sucker *******s hate if you want | |
| Get your chest blown out, crack a ******* blazin' a skunk | |
| I'm high as Cheech, levels you can't reach | |
| Sippin' on that 'Nac, tighten up the strap | |
| *******' with this 'Bad *******' and her name ain't Trina | |
| Just a thorough *******, told me "Stack and keep your feet up" | |
| I'm on mines double time, yeah, your boy gotta *******ne | |
| And my life consist of more then just rhymes | |
| *******s hatin' on the bankroll | |
| But *******, front if you want, stand under the halo | |
| (Hook) | |
| So Don't You Cross The Line, understand? | |
| Or you'll get this, boy, this *******t, boy | |
| Don't you walk around like you raw | |
| Or you'll get hit boy, click, click, boy | |
| Don't You Cross The Line, understand? | |
| Or you'll get this, boy, this *******t, boy | |
| Don't you walk around like you raw | |
| Or you'll get hit boy, click, click, boy | |
| (Verse 7-Steele) | |
| Yeah, if you cross me, that'll be costly | |
| Lose a lung or a limb, slug puncture your artery | |
| Go thatta-way, you're startin' to bother me | |
| When I'm frustrated, guns blazin', no apologies | |
| ******* what they told you, I don't know you | |
| I don't owe you a damn thing, ******* what you go through | |
| I got issues of my own, pistols made of chrome | |
| Specially used to some dudes like you back home |
| zuo ci : Augusto, Blake, Bush, Price ... | |
| IntroSean Price | |
| Pen my mutha ' rhyme, yeah, what up, what up? | |
| Boot Camp in the house, Sean P, set it off, yo | |
| Verse 1Sean Price | |
| Hey yo, the arm bone connected to the hand bone | |
| , the hand bone connected to the damn chrome | |
| Sean is a killer, Monkey Barz, Sean a gorilla | |
| Great ape in the flesh, the Great 8 is the best | |
| Duke, I spit bodies and take name, and take aim | |
| At wackass rappers who be thinkin' that they the king | |
| Stop with the lies ' fore I put a knot on your eye | |
| Pop a popular guy, pa, plot your demise | |
| It' s not just a rhyme, it' s a actual fact | |
| That the God would actually clap at any rapper that' s wack | |
| Internet s usin' my image, you not Sean | |
| Triplewdotget the ondot com | |
| Verse 2Top Dog | |
| I' m still G' d up, G. C.' d up | |
| B. C.' d up, blaze the up | |
| Henny in my cup, jump in my truck | |
| Knuck if you buck and bust if I don' t trust, so... | |
| Don' t You Cross The Line, understand? | |
| Or the gun' s in my hand, the gun goes " blam" | |
| My t don' t jam, murk you and your fam | |
| In a military stance, got you pissin' in your pants | |
| Verse 3Rock | |
| Yo, I roll with a bunch of gun dumpers | |
| You' se a fag, you roll with a bunch of butt munchers | |
| I will ghost you, but won' t nobody call no Ghostbusters | |
| Bet if you live, next time you' ll call some toast busters | |
| I' m so gutter, since you really shook, I whoop bouncers | |
| My reputation precedes me, they know I could and would | |
| Out countless hood pouncers, I beat fire out of s like you | |
| My right hand' s a recliner, lean back off that | |
| Track of the pack of your cabbage, fall flat | |
| Smack of the earth, with your staff' s jacked before that | |
| Happen, I' m Boot Camp, what you expect from me? | |
| I ain' t askin' for love, you s better love me | |
| Hook | |
| So Don' t You Cross The Line, understand? | |
| Or you' ll get this, boy, this t, boy | |
| Don' t you walk around like you raw | |
| Or you' ll get hit boy, click, click, boy | |
| Don' t You Cross The Line, understand? | |
| Or you' ll get this, boy, this t, boy | |
| Don' t you walk around like you raw | |
| Or you' ll get hit boy, click, click, boy | |
| Verse 4Buckshot | |
| Buck is mass murder, I murder the masses | |
| New or old school, I shoot up they classes | |
| s need glasses when you lookin' at I | |
| To recognize BDI, I' m a crook ' til I die | |
| y' all, why? I was on the low with no dough | |
| And y' all was like, " Nah, I don' t no go" | |
| When y' all had yo flow, now my attitude is soso | |
| You jealous and you wanna tell popo, for what, yo? | |
| I don' t sell no crack | |
| I don' t sell no , now or none of that | |
| But, I am here for runnin' rap | |
| I tell you one thing, with that, gun in your back | |
| Booyaka! Who ya nah? | |
| Buckshot, I was here before Tupac died | |
| No doubt, One Nation, I' m done wastin' time | |
| Now my gun facin' while you wastin' lines, we rise | |
| Hook | |
| So Don' t You Cross The Line, understand? | |
| Or you' ll get this, boy, this t, boy | |
| Don' t you walk around like you raw | |
| Or you' ll get hit boy, click, click, boy | |
| Don' t You Cross The Line, understand? | |
| Or you' ll get this, boy, this t, boy | |
| Don' t you walk around like you raw | |
| Or you' ll get hit boy, click, click, boy | |
| Verse 5Tek | |
| This little went out for a night on the town | |
| With a conehead hoodie and a black fourpound | |
| Ran up to the door, told ' em " open it now | |
| ' Fore I back the hammer and blow the t down" | |
| Now you see how bad s on my | |
| Sayin' what you did to me when you ain' t do t | |
| ' Cept hide behind your man, cop a plea to my dude | |
| Y' all s is sweet, easily become food | |
| So stay in your lane, homes, before them thangs drawn | |
| And it be you and all of your mans gone | |
| Verse 6Louieville Sluggah | |
| Look, ain' t nobody doin' a gotdamn | |
| Forever BCC is the fam | |
| So sucker s hate if you want | |
| Get your chest blown out, crack a blazin' a skunk | |
| I' m high as Cheech, levels you can' t reach | |
| Sippin' on that ' Nac, tighten up the strap | |
| ' with this ' Bad ' and her name ain' t Trina | |
| Just a thorough , told me " Stack and keep your feet up" | |
| I' m on mines double time, yeah, your boy gotta ne | |
| And my life consist of more then just rhymes | |
| s hatin' on the bankroll | |
| But , front if you want, stand under the halo | |
| Hook | |
| So Don' t You Cross The Line, understand? | |
| Or you' ll get this, boy, this t, boy | |
| Don' t you walk around like you raw | |
| Or you' ll get hit boy, click, click, boy | |
| Don' t You Cross The Line, understand? | |
| Or you' ll get this, boy, this t, boy | |
| Don' t you walk around like you raw | |
| Or you' ll get hit boy, click, click, boy | |
| Verse 7Steele | |
| Yeah, if you cross me, that' ll be costly | |
| Lose a lung or a limb, slug puncture your artery | |
| Go thattaway, you' re startin' to bother me | |
| When I' m frustrated, guns blazin', no apologies | |
| what they told you, I don' t know you | |
| I don' t owe you a damn thing, what you go through | |
| I got issues of my own, pistols made of chrome | |
| Specially used to some dudes like you back home |
| zuò cí : Augusto, Blake, Bush, Price ... | |
| IntroSean Price | |
| Pen my mutha ' rhyme, yeah, what up, what up? | |
| Boot Camp in the house, Sean P, set it off, yo | |
| Verse 1Sean Price | |
| Hey yo, the arm bone connected to the hand bone | |
| , the hand bone connected to the damn chrome | |
| Sean is a killer, Monkey Barz, Sean a gorilla | |
| Great ape in the flesh, the Great 8 is the best | |
| Duke, I spit bodies and take name, and take aim | |
| At wackass rappers who be thinkin' that they the king | |
| Stop with the lies ' fore I put a knot on your eye | |
| Pop a popular guy, pa, plot your demise | |
| It' s not just a rhyme, it' s a actual fact | |
| That the God would actually clap at any rapper that' s wack | |
| Internet s usin' my image, you not Sean | |
| Triplewdotget the ondot com | |
| Verse 2Top Dog | |
| I' m still G' d up, G. C.' d up | |
| B. C.' d up, blaze the up | |
| Henny in my cup, jump in my truck | |
| Knuck if you buck and bust if I don' t trust, so... | |
| Don' t You Cross The Line, understand? | |
| Or the gun' s in my hand, the gun goes " blam" | |
| My t don' t jam, murk you and your fam | |
| In a military stance, got you pissin' in your pants | |
| Verse 3Rock | |
| Yo, I roll with a bunch of gun dumpers | |
| You' se a fag, you roll with a bunch of butt munchers | |
| I will ghost you, but won' t nobody call no Ghostbusters | |
| Bet if you live, next time you' ll call some toast busters | |
| I' m so gutter, since you really shook, I whoop bouncers | |
| My reputation precedes me, they know I could and would | |
| Out countless hood pouncers, I beat fire out of s like you | |
| My right hand' s a recliner, lean back off that | |
| Track of the pack of your cabbage, fall flat | |
| Smack of the earth, with your staff' s jacked before that | |
| Happen, I' m Boot Camp, what you expect from me? | |
| I ain' t askin' for love, you s better love me | |
| Hook | |
| So Don' t You Cross The Line, understand? | |
| Or you' ll get this, boy, this t, boy | |
| Don' t you walk around like you raw | |
| Or you' ll get hit boy, click, click, boy | |
| Don' t You Cross The Line, understand? | |
| Or you' ll get this, boy, this t, boy | |
| Don' t you walk around like you raw | |
| Or you' ll get hit boy, click, click, boy | |
| Verse 4Buckshot | |
| Buck is mass murder, I murder the masses | |
| New or old school, I shoot up they classes | |
| s need glasses when you lookin' at I | |
| To recognize BDI, I' m a crook ' til I die | |
| y' all, why? I was on the low with no dough | |
| And y' all was like, " Nah, I don' t no go" | |
| When y' all had yo flow, now my attitude is soso | |
| You jealous and you wanna tell popo, for what, yo? | |
| I don' t sell no crack | |
| I don' t sell no , now or none of that | |
| But, I am here for runnin' rap | |
| I tell you one thing, with that, gun in your back | |
| Booyaka! Who ya nah? | |
| Buckshot, I was here before Tupac died | |
| No doubt, One Nation, I' m done wastin' time | |
| Now my gun facin' while you wastin' lines, we rise | |
| Hook | |
| So Don' t You Cross The Line, understand? | |
| Or you' ll get this, boy, this t, boy | |
| Don' t you walk around like you raw | |
| Or you' ll get hit boy, click, click, boy | |
| Don' t You Cross The Line, understand? | |
| Or you' ll get this, boy, this t, boy | |
| Don' t you walk around like you raw | |
| Or you' ll get hit boy, click, click, boy | |
| Verse 5Tek | |
| This little went out for a night on the town | |
| With a conehead hoodie and a black fourpound | |
| Ran up to the door, told ' em " open it now | |
| ' Fore I back the hammer and blow the t down" | |
| Now you see how bad s on my | |
| Sayin' what you did to me when you ain' t do t | |
| ' Cept hide behind your man, cop a plea to my dude | |
| Y' all s is sweet, easily become food | |
| So stay in your lane, homes, before them thangs drawn | |
| And it be you and all of your mans gone | |
| Verse 6Louieville Sluggah | |
| Look, ain' t nobody doin' a gotdamn | |
| Forever BCC is the fam | |
| So sucker s hate if you want | |
| Get your chest blown out, crack a blazin' a skunk | |
| I' m high as Cheech, levels you can' t reach | |
| Sippin' on that ' Nac, tighten up the strap | |
| ' with this ' Bad ' and her name ain' t Trina | |
| Just a thorough , told me " Stack and keep your feet up" | |
| I' m on mines double time, yeah, your boy gotta ne | |
| And my life consist of more then just rhymes | |
| s hatin' on the bankroll | |
| But , front if you want, stand under the halo | |
| Hook | |
| So Don' t You Cross The Line, understand? | |
| Or you' ll get this, boy, this t, boy | |
| Don' t you walk around like you raw | |
| Or you' ll get hit boy, click, click, boy | |
| Don' t You Cross The Line, understand? | |
| Or you' ll get this, boy, this t, boy | |
| Don' t you walk around like you raw | |
| Or you' ll get hit boy, click, click, boy | |
| Verse 7Steele | |
| Yeah, if you cross me, that' ll be costly | |
| Lose a lung or a limb, slug puncture your artery | |
| Go thattaway, you' re startin' to bother me | |
| When I' m frustrated, guns blazin', no apologies | |
| what they told you, I don' t know you | |
| I don' t owe you a damn thing, what you go through | |
| I got issues of my own, pistols made of chrome | |
| Specially used to some dudes like you back home |
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