Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Just for You , by - Rah Digga. Release date: 15.12.2008
Song language: English
Just for You |
| All my niggas y’all, Flipmode y’all |
| Flipmode y’all, hardcore y’all, raw shit y’all |
| Hardcore y’all, Flipmode y’all |
| For my bitches y’all, all my bitches y’all |
| Flipmode y’all, Flipmode y’all |
| Hardcore y’all, raw shit y’all |
| Hardcore y’all, Flipmode y’all |
| Never judge a nigga like the cover of a book |
| Fuck around and get shot back of the foot |
| Nigga fall, stumble and look, nervous and shook |
| Dragged in the alley and book and beat down to a pulp |
| Shot up my copse, Dirty Harry |
| You stickin me is like niggas fuckin the Virgin Mary |
| Shit we carry, will have you found layin down somewhere damp and muddy |
| Split your tummy, puncture your kidney and make you piss bloody |
| So now I leave your body to rott |
| Where bitches sell they pussy for rock |
| Cook they coke in steamin water boil in a pot |
| Do you know niggas like us that clutter they watch |
| Invest in yo' block, like it or not, involvin your pops |
| You messin wit a rhyme surgeon |
| Trade the GS for the Excursion, heads is turning |
| Flipmode we still mergin |
| Now we splurgin in Suburbans |
| Dirty Harriet rock the camouflage turbans |
| Said one for the money and two for mic check |
| And spit a million rhymin words in 240 seconds |
| Get three to get your bitch neck, and four to even the score |
| Graveyard shift it’s best that y’all believe in the law |
| Flipmode like Mary Lou Retton |
| Suede ballie, shoe steppin do the best that I can can |
| Like Pointer Sisters, who could join the wizard? |
| Talkin outta place I pick the knife up and cut the tongue |
| Right outta your mouth and fuck your life up |
| This for my niggas, y’all come get wit us |
| More raw hardcore shit just for you |
| YOU, you, YOU, you, YOU, you, YOU |
| This for my sistas, we know y’all miss us |
| Flipmode got raw shit just for you |
| YOU, you, YOU, you, YOU, you, YOU |
| Before all the plaques and the source awards |
| Y’all niggas wanna dick ride so jump aboard |
| It’s a first class ass whippin, Rampage, I ain’t trippin |
| Check all the magazine clippins |
| Yo I pluck pigeons, get brains in Expeditions |
| Cause friction, every chick I stick my dick in |
| I’m not trustworthy like midnight I’m pickin |
| Spliff keep it warm like wool caps to mittens |
| Watch for me in a new milli, kick up dust with my shoe shitty |
| New Jack City, wicked ways move wit me |
| Holla mine, any violent times crooks bear malice |
| White collar crime, Columbine, weak clear classes |
| Burn a nigga into ashes, how I mashes ass like Cassius |
| Finger jabs, I got it mastered, fantastic |
| Writin half ass shit, splash kids |
| Poke em with the bassonet in the neck, graphic |
| Can’t tell I’m from QB the way that I talk |
| Speakin in tongue, with six blocks callin my dun |
| Bogie collapsed lung, big and small gats we brung |
| Bangin your drums with hot shit and more to come |
| But then we manifest the truth |
| The niggas like predictions from the Bible |
| Betrayal for niggas is suicidal |
| Kick swift shit niggas rock harder than Limp Bizkit |
| Dirty Harriet floodin all through your district |