Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Sowhatusayin, artist - South Central Cartel. Album song South Central Cartel Latest and Greatest, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.2008
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Thump
Song language: English
Sowhatusayin |
It’s a motherfuckin shame |
Everytime I look at the goddamn news, or read a motherfuckin |
Paper, some motherfuckin bitch or nigga tryin to dis gangsta rap |
But um, check this shit out |
Gangsta rap is here to motherfuckin stay |
All you hoes and bitches out there tryin to put a bag on this |
Shit, this shit is here to motherfuckin stay |
Bailin up outta the cut, I’m breakin em off for this 95 G thang |
Jumpin up outta that Mustang, gonna let these nuts hang |
Cannibalistic flow snatchin your neck off |
Grabin a fuckin tech, lettin this bit takin your chest off |
Morgify a nigga with the quickness, pissin on brain sites |
Magnify your heart with this beam, and stomp it like a street light |
We blow motherfuckas, kickin up dust, droppin that bomb shit |
Glock cocked on your block, ready to rock it all time |
Bitch I sack, SCC be that click, Treach and Hav |
Felony, Prod, H-A-V the OC, you can’t see me |
Pump pump that Havoc’ll have it crazy motherfucka |
Bewitched and brain dead, leavin you headless motherfucka |
The original from the block, ready to pop and drop |
Glock on cock, Felony’s the locest as I focus like a mug shot |
Hot like rocks, nah fuck that, like boilin lava |
I’m wicked, sit back and kick it, as I saliva |
How I took in your eyeball, I call all shots for the GNC |
Nigga close your eyes cuz you ain’t seeing me |
Five eight, seven fifteen, Bullet Loco still |
Pissin in a cup, and I’m not givin a fuck |
It’s on, fuck Oliver Stone, he made Colors |
Gettin paid off gangbangin, I want my money motherfucka |
I’m a bump ya, pluck ya like a chicken and cut your head off |
Housin with a hundred thousand, ready to let em |
Go to the pen, or make ends, that was my option |
Now R-A-P gon put me up like adoption |
I’m shoppin for brains and thangs, so marks jet |
I’m addictive, like double nicotine in cigaretes |
Let’s take this demon to the head loc, you scared loc? |
I met my fuckin last smoke, leavin these bustas dead broke |
Pass me the rap on the track and Bullet Loc gon come sick |
Cuz at the end of the world there’s gon be gangstas |
Cockroaches, and sherm sticks |
Yeah, headbangas in the house yo |
You playa hatas can’t stop this gangsta shit |
You know what I’m sayin? |
Haha |
Step up, step off punk ass niggas |
I flow real soft, soft as medicated cotton |
Cuz I put my foot up your ass before you pass gas |
Or even before you’re thikin bout farting |
So what you saying? |
So what you saying? |
I’m lettin my gat bust |
You bustas and you marks know I just don’t trust |
Back on that flow, don’t you know |
It’s that Prod from that sqaud |
Kickin up in that dust as I bust as I mob |
Metamorphisize from that BG to OG |
All I see is G’s but you bustas can’t see me |
Smokin motherfuckas so they bodies are cold |
I’m kickin up on your ass till you crumble and fold |
I’m on the creeps on them vouges |
Droppin 6 to them 4's |
Makin records, going gold |
That’s my story in Vouge |
Still try to break me but you’re broke |
As I spoke, loc |
Suckas hate the gunsmoke |
Act I peel your cap like a cantaloupe |
You think it’s settled when we knuckle up |
I got insane like Saddam |
And wreck your posse with my finger fuck |
Five four three two um |
Here it comes, one more time |
Pistol whip dump when I’m packin up mine |
Y’all don’t wanna do nothin, I’ma keep on bustin |
G’s need to ease on back, or catch a cap in they knapsack |
I sprayed your ass with a gauge and leave you dazed for days |
So why must you drive my G flow |
I swallow your ass up like Cujo |
And I got em, hollow point for the gaffle |
Seventeen in your ass like a raffle |
So respect me, the Young P-R-O-D |
I be that nigga that kill you for nineteen ninety G |
I takes two to your jaw motherfucka you slip |
I take two more and watch the swelling of your fat lip |
Nigga, how’d you figga like a bitch I let you get away |
Westside, CPT G’s that don’t play |
I throws that CPT up, blaze up the blunt |
Then I steps back and sits down my fuckin cup |
My nigga Bird got my back when we square off |
Toe to toe, don’t ya know surprise here comes the left blow |
You get the steel toed boot, to your chin |
You can’t win, oops it splits out your front tooth |
Now you squirm like a worm in the dirt |
You get hurt motherfucker cuz we puts in much work |
You look up to see the barrel of my fuckin strap, playa |
Eiht Hype best to get ready for a long night |
I hit your block cuz I don’t care |
Let the Glock go tick tock and I hit you what with, geah |
I heard niggas had beef with SCC |
And he was headed for the airport |
Landed ass branded way up north |
From Ill Town Eiht called me, said leaving with tech nine releases |
Torches porched and piss out the pieces |
Nigga wasn’t witty nor fuckin worthy |
Cuz he had beef with Ant Banks, Boss, Spice 1, they tried to |
Hide in Jersey |
That was the wrong fuckin move, the wrong alley |
To think the Murder Squad only had connections in Cali |
Yes, with the murder, I said it flex |
West coast to east coast quicker than Federal Express |
Cuz we strike and we don’t lack for the wack |
The T to the R to the E to the A to the C to the H is back! |
Break yoself, it’s Sh’Killa, make way while I spray |
Murder Squad spit out claim, my hood is the bay |
Nine Glock Glock, ready to pop or stop |
While those who rank high in might ride on top |
Retaliation a must when I bust or blast |
Retaliation and blank gun in hand with my mask |
Can’t stop me I’m sick and I gives a fuck |
See a nigga slippin, aim my shit then I bust |
Break yoself, once again it’s on |
I’m takin all, pump pump, drop gun, head up, hut one |
Murder Squad, gangsta made beat be the shit |
Murder Squad, gangstas for life and we sick |
Niggas playa hate ya but I’m Naughty by Nature |
Eiht ya got these niggas on the run, so let’s go get the guns |
Takin they shit, gankin they riches, so a nigga can’t sew |
Up your spot |
I’m leavin your shit up in stitches, gotta decapitate motherfuckas |
Can’t see me like Ray Charles |
Kill em all, stick an ice pick in your shit and have ya HAAA! |
Stabbin up shit like OJ, shoot em up with the motherfuckin AK |
It’s that nigga from the east bay |
Killin off shit when the gat spray |
Motherfuckin hustler, fuck a busta |
High billers we makin a nigga fry |
Let’s all die, murder up some niggas call «Can I?» |
With the infrared up on the nutsac, man blouw blouw! |
With the infrared up on them throats, man go blouw blouw! |