| Messing with my cru
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| Messing with my cru
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| We will kill you
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| We will kill you
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| You don’t have a fucking clue
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| (Clue)
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| What we came to do
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| What we came to do
|
| You don’t have a fucking clue
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| What we came to do
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| What we came to do
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| Ha, I roll on your doo like bamboo
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| Man listen, Aknel stay in condition like shampoo
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| There ain’t a man who can handle
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| Once I back slap you or clap you
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| Bullets in your skin like a tatoo
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| Now back to reality, you ain’t as bad as me
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| I get down for my clan till they call me your majesty
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| Nigga fat as me still fuck with strategy
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| My dick stuck way up where her blatter be
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| But that don’t matter see, I’ll serve your ass like Andre Agassi
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| Fuck tennis, you dealing with a straight menace
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| Wailing on your ass like Venice
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| Well uh, got it sewn like a tailor
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| Float like a sailor, truck like a trailor
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| Scope with the
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| All the above I’ve done the like Australia
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| Straight bailing you out, one call from jail
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| Aiming you out like Master P, that’s what we be a about
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| I got ammunition for those dissing
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| This ain’t R&B, that’s why I’m skipping all that rip shit
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| I land one with the hand gun
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| You could go ask Charles and he’ll tell you
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| I’m the motherfucking man, son
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| My gun had bust many mans, watch many mans
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| Get swept the fuck off, there feet like dust pans
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| You get touched, man, messing with us man
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| Messing with my cru
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| Messing with my cru
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| We will kill you
|
| We will kill you
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| You don’t have a fucking clue
|
| (Clue)
|
| What we came to do
|
| What we came to do
|
| You don’t have a fucking clue
|
| What we came to do
|
| What we came to do
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| Ha, I’m untouchable like Elliot Ness
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| My foot will lay you down to rest
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| And bless you with that Russell Simmons saint
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| And say thanks for coming out and God bless
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| Bow, fuck that bullet proof vest
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| I got hollow pistol leave you with the bullet infested in the chest
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| It’s the Aknel, you know I rock well
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| I keep the gun point cocked like fucking barbells
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| Who the hell want to touch this veteran
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| Murder is the medicine, fine I’ll stop the pedaling
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| Bullet in your brain leave your head in pain
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| On the ground you’ll be laying reaching for exceteran ceteran, ceteran
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| But fuck that headache 'cuz you headed for a wake
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| I threw the gun in the lake, so they don’t see me upstate
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| Now they don’t have a clue and shit
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| Around the way I see your name written on the walls
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| Like rest in peace in you and shit
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| Your crew they ain’t doing shit
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| Your mom’s talking about the city had you suing it
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| Ha, I got the name Michael inbreded on the mack 11
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| They send punk niggas on the highway to heaven
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| You want to see God hit you with about seven
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| You want to see God hit you with about seven
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| Like you shop in Pennsylvania, your blood straight redden
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| Get it redden Pennsylvania, you want to shoot a fear one
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| I might swing my hands like Macarena
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| Messing with my cru
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| Messing with my cru
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| We will kill you
|
| We will kill you
|
| You don’t have a fucking clue
|
| (Clue)
|
| What we came to do
|
| What we came to do
|
| You don’t have a fucking clue
|
| What we came to do
|
| What we came to do
|
| Messing with my cru
|
| Messing with my cru
|
| We will kill you
|
| We will kill you
|
| You don’t have a fucking clue
|
| (Clue)
|
| What we came to do
|
| What we came to do
|
| You don’t have a fucking clue
|
| What we came to do
|
| What we came to do |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Messin' With My Cru , by - Akinyele. Song from the album Aktapuss, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп