Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Don't Cross The Line, artist - Freeway. Date of issue: 31.12.2002
Song language: English
Don't Cross The Line |
| The name F-R-Double the E The gat hack, are, end where the cops’ll clip |
| Back, flip, hands spring semi your V You callin’all, and run to the cops |
| Don’t make me wet y’all, with what’s under the t-shirt |
| The heat hurt, blew off ya front porch, your backyard |
| Ya’ll niggaz like dicks, pause |
| Thick jaws, act hard, so they keep squirting |
| I move work often, like when New York couldn’t beat Boston |
| Controllin’the nets, I float on ya block |
| Hop out, post up, move rocks often |
| Shut the shot down, pass it to Chris |
| If your boss got twelve on the neck, ten in the arm |
| And my gat at the end of my arms, hittin’the clip prick |
| Flippin’ya vet, causin’you harm, nigga |
| Ya’ll need a place of respect, we runnin’shit |
| The name F-R-Double the E, tell 'em |
| Don’t really wanna cross the line and |
| I don’t wanna have to tell ya twice, and |
| Trick, R-O-C bring trouble your way |
| W-A-to the Y, tell 'em |
| Lean back, don’t slow up Freeway gets no love |
| Trick, R-O-C bring trouble this parts |
| F-R-E, bubble the ride, and in all |
| Came from takin’the trip, stuffin’the ride, yea |
| I’ma ride it on every of your ride |
| Caught in every broad or market, park it, hop out in deer crew |
| The heat is on perfect, tuckin’the linin' |
| I’m fine and trynna get some tickets for sliding |
| Freeway’s in full effect |
| And all these bitches want some millions just to hear my rhyme |
| And I don’t gotta boss 'em to give nectar |
| The boy give check-ups, I get neck, when I don’t ask |
| When mami’s with the ax, make my baby momma ask |
| Look, that’s the crime, and I Don’t wanna force y’all to give checks, uh Without tax, Freeway shoot ya from ya head to ya toe |
| From ya toes to ya neck |
| That’s what the boy brought, extra large |
| Freeway bring trouble to soloists |
| The sawed off split, get the fuck outta dodge |
| Know this, I came from nothing, so ain’t nothing for my gauge to duck |
| You punks, get outta line, and I cock back, bloody ya tee |
| Pull ya top back, drive through at McDonald’s |
| In front of Ronald, put ya brains on ya Big Mac, make |
| sure the bitch don’t leave |
| I got a gat and a clip in each sleeve |
| With boxers, so my dick can breathe |
| Breeze through in the '89, delt with my boys with my whistle on freeze |
| That’s how you know I got the block on smash |
| Act up, I put your stripper on freeze |
| Me and Sieg', like Snoop and Daz |
| Because tricks that fuck, couldn’t give me the ass |
| And they roll up, light up, pass me the trees, come on |