Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 6 Figure, artist - B.G.. Date of issue: 10.11.1997
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
6 Figure |
| Lettin''em hang, I represent bangity-bang |
| I gettin’off into shit you can not handle |
| I’m settin’it off in this bitch, thinkin’of scandals |
| 'Bout my paper, 5 figures and up with the red beam |
| Dealers and thugs on my team with many 14's |
| Hittin’your home up, hittin’at everything movin' |
| Lookin’and losin', startin’chaos and confusion |
| I’m bruisin’your whole family, dress 'em up in dark colors |
| Then come to your funeral in two Hummers |
| That’s me, Baby Gangsta, spark in the day |
| Come out the funeral home, you get hit at walkin’away |
| I’m in to grow, legend with rights, I don’t been enticed |
| To greab the K and let it spray, put an end to a nigga life |
| My nigga TD gettin’high wit’me |
| Out that 13, straped up he ride or die wit’me |
| I was in the 'Nolia, lookin’for that killa guerilla |
| I know my nigga gangsta got it on wild willa |
| Uptown consist of drug dealers, and thugs |
| For the junkies got no love |
| It’s like this, play pussy you catch a slug |
| Drug though the mud, once it’s dead it’s done |
| Hand on my gun cause I don’t give a muthafuck |
| I’m a head buh-uh-busta, I never truh-uh-trust a bitch |
| Make sure I gotta silent 4−5, if this nigga snitch |
| Get me in the fix, and I can’t snitch out the mix |
| Just gimme tree lives, double them so I got six |
| Ain’t that some shit, wanna see me assed outta luck |
| Bet I ain’t trippin', cause I don’t give a muthatfuck |
| I be catchin’a nigga corner, rippin’through a nigga street |
| Hot Boys they ride with me, like a preist, five deep |
| Windows tinted, clips extened, drum lettin' |
| Bustin’lead 'n, real 'n, Hot Boy$ don’t forget it Leave every porch wet 'n, brains all over the step 'n |
| Disrespectin’the whole neighborhood block wettin' |
| Step in, the section, uh-of the Hot Boy$ |
| Full of the 'dro, and ride and chop you whole spot boy |
| Better watch boy, where you be at cause I’m a hit at, three flat |
| You want beef, I’ma beef at, make it hot, I’ma crease that |
| Camoflauge to the 'Boks, pop off clips in the glocks |
| Make sure all choppers cocked, start a quake, shake the whole block |
| Take the tip of the jo, kick down the front door |
| Run from front to back bustin', Terius cut his wife throat |
| I’ma play it how it go, hold a black connect sho' |
| We went to school for this, we spend bins like a pro |
| Go chill with the Joe, Say wodie let’s get loaded |
| Blow a pound with my round, 50 shot’ll get me toted |
| I’ma wet your bin, hit your house, unlock ten |
| Boy you can’t win I let chopper bullets spin |
| Don’t fuck with bitch niggaz, 226 bout the real |
| Them niggaz who paper chase, go in the dark and pack that steal |
| You ain’t hear about the young thugs, |
| The Hot Boys, that’s who the are |
| Run that shit blow for blow, hoes be bout catchin’that nut |
| Nigga don’t think cause we young, we ain’t ridin’or dyin’too |
| Down with black connection to the finish, we bout killin’niggaz too |
| Spend your bin quickly, make you suffer, die slowly |
| You hit enough, I’m about to down, play the scenery |
| Big ol’Expedition’s, do some dirt in it tonight |
| Five choppers for who lost, kill a nigga, we just might |
| Bitch niggaz get left flat, like a flat rat in the street |
| Abunch of young head spliters, like K.C. |
| and B.G. |
| Fuck the police, cause we spray them too |
| Pop the cop or go down, cause we ain’t down with that crew |
| Get caught up in the crossfire, best believe It’s All On U |
| +Ohh, it ain't my fault+, I done what I had to do Give a fuck about no nigga, that nigga don't give a fuck about me Any chance he get he gon'take it, try to sweep me off my |
| feet |
| That’s why I keep my eyes wide, nigga cross that line they gon’die |
| Leave your families clueless, and questionin’why |
| 4−4 bull dogs bark loud, chopper moves crowds |
| Innocent bystanders watch out, them lil thugs act wild |
| I’m a ride or die-er, smoke nothin’but that fire-ya |
| Keep all my hoes cause I’m a liar |
| Neighborhood uh-hotter that a toaster, ridin’MoMo’s |
| and I’ll roast a deal what’s on my old poster, |
| if I pull it out my holster |
| You sopposed’a, respect a nigga like me |
| I’m gettin’closer and closer to the T-O-P |
| I’m H-O-T, bitches say I’m a D-O-G |
| I’m on surveilance all day be the S-P-D's |
| In my heart I feel, fuck the police |
| Cause in they hear they feel, fuck it, |
| try to keep a nigga off the street |
| Who? |
| Not I, nigga, the trillest B.G. |
| Lots’a money, and the best attourney speak for me And I speak and represent for the U.P.T. |
| I creep, and get bent with VL Street |
| I’slang heat, any day, noise I bring |
| Feel I can’t be bat any day, I’m a Hot Boy, I let 'em hang |
| Far as they can, cause I’m a thug to the fullest |
| Pistol in my hand, trigga I pull it 'til there’s no more bullets |
| I ain’t the one to be repped on Who whole block get stepped on If they outside, when I’m ride, I’ma ride 'til there’s no more gas |
| I’ma ride 'til I put you on your muthafuckin’back |
| I’m in all black, behind the skuh-uh-skimask |
| It ain’t no way that you could last |
| I’m comin’like the task force, I blast with full force |
| I’m sorry if your grandparents on the porch |
| They All 'N |
| Even if I don’t get no taller |
| I’ma always be a CMB baller, smokin’blunts in the hallway |
| I’m skinny yeah, weighin''bout 155 |
| But believe I could tote a chopper, believe bitches could die |
| Now play with the man, full of that dope with a K in his hand |
| Don’t want hear what’cha sayin’just don’t be here when I sprayin' |
| How you gon’do it, we could handle that no secret |
| Boy, I’ll put some change on you head take you off the street quick |
| Look, I got a Mack-90 that won’t quit |
| I got clique foll of some njiggaz bout that funk shit |
| So what you want, get you dome split |
| You home hit, jeopardized |
| Niggaz spendin’a bin in camoflauge |
| I’ma top knot shot caller, from the clique CMB Ballers |
| Fuckin’niggaz daughters, got my shit sittin’on Brawlers |
| I’m mad boy, with this clique I’ma act a ass boy |
| It’s cash boy, I don’t think you could last boy |
| I’m bout to pull some out the hall type shit |
| Some Steven Seagal type shit |
| Some *cgghh* knife shit |
| Don’t think you niggaz feelin’that 226 |
| Behind me the crucifix, chop or get chopped, split or get split |
| Doogie, Lil Wayne, Lil Turk, Lil Terius, better tell 'em |
| These niggaz are felons, HOT BOY be which we yellin' |
| Right know you close to the devil, and your lip gon’get you hurt |
| Picture this, three ways gon’tear up your turf |