| Back in December, or was it November?
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| It’s kind of shady, I can vaguely remember
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| I was at the Peppermill, popping at the bartender
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| He made me a drink called uh, Bodybender
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| That’s when a smurf pulled on my shirt
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| Said (Hey, get off my girl, dog, before you get hurt)
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| I said, «Hold on, I don’t know what you think
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| You better back the fuck up and let me order my drink»
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| He backed the fuck up and did more than you think
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| He had a AP, not a nine, but it’s sort of the same
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| So now it’s one lonely R-o-m-p
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| I’m all by myself without nobody
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| Slightly noided, sense death, can I avoid it?
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| Somebody slammed the do' on the way comin from the toilet
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| He looked back, then I pulled out my strap
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| Slapped him it twice but uh, I should’ve clapped
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| Cause this other goon nigga started wildin
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| I pulled out my faulty phone and started dialin
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| Told my niggas to come on the double
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| They finna put a nigga on the gong show, bust his bubble
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| He said yeah, he know he comin
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| «But damn my nigga, you always into somethin»
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| Recently, June 4th, released from jail
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| And 'bout to hit the streets like a beast from hell
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| It’s that nigga y’all done heard about, young J. Diggs
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| Love to play the game and I play big
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| I see suckers havin money and I gots to have some
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| You in the double R, I gots to have one
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| I’m all up in his backdo' like knock-knock-knock
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| The nigga moved too fast, so I pop-pop-popped
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| Should’ve stood still, there would be no firing
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| But it’s a little late, all I’m hearin is sirens
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| So now I’m in the wind like leaves on trees
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| I’m in the crowd tryin to blend like d’s on v’s
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| I’m sweatin bullets, I’m an ex-con out on parole
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| What the fuck was I thinkin, I’m out of control
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| I’m at the Romp House and I’m huffin and puffin
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| My niggas lookin at me crazy cause I’m always into somethin
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| Yo, we fuck with heavy guns, fuck around and pump heavy slugs
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| We drinkin Rémy doin heavy drugs
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| Nigga, we stay explosive, it’s about a quarter to six
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| Step out the limousine, my wallet’s 'bout a quarter inch thick
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| Nigga, we shittin on em, I pop the three-piece, savage
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| So many carats up in my ice I could choke a rabbit
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| Bitches screamin for me but all it took was one dirty look
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| We hit that nigga with that murder book
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| Nigga tried to step fast, hit him in the face with a Moët glass
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| Spilled drink on his bitch, the whole club hit the do' fast
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| Trunks is poppin, niggas wingin in the parking lot
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| We keep it gangsta with them choppers out
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| S-l double, I smell trouble, boy, it’s nothin
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| Keep your peace, muthafucka, I’m always into somethin
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| Let me tell you somethin 'bout a nigga like me
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| Never should’ve been let out the penitentiary
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| Cause niggas done switched up, I guess they got it mixed up
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| Now I’m a dust the heater off my shelf and leave em bitched up
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| Like this one nigga actin like a dumb nigga
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| S-in on his chest with no vest, yeah, he a dumb nigga
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| Ain’t no love in this thug shit
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| Now he at the club tryin to hug on my thug bitch
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| Plus she done gave me the run-down on how this nigga run round
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| Town speakin on my name, tonight he get gunned down
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| His bitch about to set him out, open the door and let him out
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| Caught his ass scared and out, Bronc style, dead him out
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| Never have beef with a nigga who bitch you wanna sleep with
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| Cowards get devoured on that sweet shit
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| Hit him with the venom, then bounce with my adrenaline pumpin
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| Yo nigga always up into somethin |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Always Inta Somethin , by - Mac Dre. Song from the album It's Not What You Say…It's How You Say It, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп