Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Die Another Day, artist - Benzino. Date of issue: 23.09.2002
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Die Another Day |
| Deliver me from evil and I sell his devils faith |
| Lets take a closer look at what’s really happenin' |
| He wants you to believe that it was all about rappin' |
| And all I try to do is open up my niggas eyes |
| It wasn’t about me and Em, you gotta realise |
| It’s just a smokescreen, my niggas there’s a bigger picture |
| I want the streets to pay attention cause I’m ridin' with ya |
| This credibility is what we here for |
| Then why ain’t the hoods sellin' units no more (tell me why) |
| Labels actin' like it’s good so they say so |
| EPMD was always gold with no radio |
| Now it’s time to turn the prophesy, times up |
| Marshall Mathers gotta die, rise up |
| No choise, the only way we gonna turn this shit around |
| Is put this little bitch in the ground |
| And this so cald kings, steady going at eachother |
| Do songs with the devil, while they fightin' with there brothers |
| Sell a house, fuckin' pitiful, we always just some drama |
| Let 'em slide through then they devide, conquer |
| And every plantation got a bunch a house niggas |
| D12, Shady Records just a bunch of house niggas |
| Obie Trice, is for security in your front lobby |
| Better call the secret service, if you gonna stop me (blaah) |
| Paul Rosenberg, you fat fuckin' pig |
| I’m holdin you responsable for what this bitch did (kill ya) |
| Cause you call me up, try to cop or plead |
| As far as I’m concerned you both gonna bleed (bitch) |
| Talkin' bout he wanna fight, please |
| Let’s set that shit up quick so I can drop him to his knees |
| You let a clown clown you, how insane is that |
| You let em tonguekiss your wife when you had a gat |
| How you gonna have a gun with no bullets |
| Oh don’t worry cause when I see you I’m gonna pul it (blaah) |
| You dyed ya hear blond, I’m a make it red |
| How you gonna sell records Marshall when you dead |
| Motherfuck make you pay for that bullshit you talkin' |
| I’m goin' hard in the streets of New York and |
| Just ask Chuck how we ran 'em outta Boston |
| He should have been killed left in the coffin |
| And you better keep my kids out ya fuckin' mouth |
| Before I put a glock in yo' mutherfuckin' mouth |
| Tell Haley it ain’t safe no more (nah) |
| Daddy better watch yo' back at the candystore |
| We Fucked up, resort to plan B |
| Fuck around she and up like Jon Benet Ramsey (that's right) |
| Matter of fact you better check the DNA (what) |
| She probably ain’t yours, and where’s your wife Kim anyway |
| She’s on her knees somewhere suckin' 50 Cent |
| I know you wishin' you were there cause you on his dick |
| You dress in drag, you huggin' up on Elton John |
| You closet fag, I’m a king you a little punk |
| You the rap david doer the rap bibler |
| The coacher stealer, niggas ain’t with ya |
| I’m the rap Hewey, the rap Malcolm, the rap Martin |
| Don’t worry I’m a finish what we started |
| And everybody who wanna scream Pac’s name |
| You don’t make a difference, you in it for the fame |
| Cause if Pac was livin', he would shoot this bitch alive |
| But I’m a do it for him, if the hood must survive |
| You sleep with five O, you walk with the feds |
| Better keep the lights on, when they tuck you into bed |
| Cause I’m a get yo' silly ass, find out where you lay |
| When Debbie set you up you gonna die another day |