Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Dead Bodies , by - The Alchemist. Release date: 06.09.2004
Song language: English
Dead Bodies |
| We out in this… P and Game, we’ll blow that bitch up |
| From the world’s most infamous, 1st Infantry |
| (Alchemist, this shit raw like fresh beef playa |
| We boyz in da hood… wanna see a dead body) |
| Sittin' in a lowrider, murda on my mind |
| 'Cause I had too many dead homies in my lifetime |
| That’s why I ride wit a nine and dem hollow tips |
| Lift niggas like a chrome hydraulic switch |
| Wit a hood rat in the car that swallow dicks |
| So good that I got P on that six-four Impala shit |
| She from Compton just like me |
| Caramel wit extensions just like Eve |
| She want to go to a Knicks game, sit next to Spike Lee |
| Well do the right thing, blow a nigga out his Nikes |
| She married to The Game, that’s wifey |
| Ask Gotti get them blood stains out your white tee |
| P in the backseat finger fuckin' her girlfriend |
| That’ll put a golf ball hole in your right cheek |
| Start trippin' over colors like Ice-T |
| And you can watch your life slip away through an I. V |
| We out in Cali, P and Game straight blow that bitch up |
| We out in New York, P and Game we blow that bitch up |
| You can’t stop us, we gettin' this money its not bangin' |
| You can’t pull that shit this way, we head bangin' |
| Wit dem Glocks and dem oo-ops |
| Me and my fools shoot, wutchu tryin' do that |
| I suggest you do not |
| My chain is hot, what’s more hot than that |
| That’s how I murda music, that’s why your broads on my back |
| Got two birds on my shoulders, they all over me |
| And ready to fuck Game and whoever else roll wit me |
| My presence is strong, I have a bitch seein' dollar |
| Signs spots stare at me too long |
| Have you seein' that white light you come at me wrong |
| Or any one of my dawgs, I’ll be settin' it off |
| You was raised on beef and live real drama |
| Don’t let the coupes twist you, we lettin' o’s off |
| We out in this… P and Game, we’ll blow that bitch up |
| (P and Game rollin' the Dutch) |
| P and Game, we’ll blow that bitch up, mixed with the A L see |
| NYC to LA we do our sweep |
| We out in Compton, P and Game lacin' Chucks |
| We out in QB, P and Game rollin' a Dutch |
| Dumpin' ashes out the windshield |
| Haze got my head spinnin like dem 24 inch wheels |
| Ridin' to Suga Hill bangin' shook ones |
| On the westside highway, hand on the steel |
| If I like your chain then blood spill |
| 'Cause I ain’t getta million dollars when I signed my deal |
| Nigga I’ll tie your wife to a chair and blow that bitch up |
| You better fire proof your crib, I’ll blow that shit up |
| I’m all about this crime shit for real, this rap shit is luck |
| Try to score points on me, I’ll fasten you up |
| In that smelly proof bag, real real fast |
| Shoot the deuce under my arm, I’m real real slick |
| Can’t put a tail on me, I drive too fast |
| Can’t put tag on me, I smoke people ass |
| If you from the westside, nigga throw that shit up |
| If you bang to eastside, nigga throw that shit up |
| I ain’t tryna be in The Source or Double X L |
| I’m just tryna fuck Trina 'cause Dre said sex sells |
| And it was either this or jail |
| Imagine tryna fit birds in a Honda Accel |
| And they caught up on the Fed Ex mail |
| So we stopped doin' business and chirpin' on Nextels |
| We gangstas |
| I fold people in half, I tore people ass |
| But they still want to ride out as long as we see death |
| I get money, and I don’t need your help or friendship |
| But love, I’ma survive just how I been |
| I’ma stay alive till the day I die |
| But right now I’m healthy, niggas betta get up off my |
| A bitch is nuttin' we easily fuck it |
| And we possessed by the cash and these guns we bustin'… |