| Two in the morning, walking through the hood
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| My man got a jux trying to see what’s good
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| Got papi upstairs, heard he got the yayo
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| Nigga not playing, got it by the kilo
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| My eyes lit up like I hit the jackpot
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| Money come faster than selling that crack rock
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| Went to the car got the gun out the stash box
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| Had this one line in my head from 2Pac
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| I gotta get it, got, gots to get it
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| Doing this for self 'cause my man ain’t with it
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| Knocked on the door, pulled out the four-five
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| When it’s about that cash I be ready to dive
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| Pop one to the leg, put the gun to his forehead
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| Anybody move watch your ass get dead
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| I know where it’s at, run back in the room
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| Go get that shit and I’ll be on the move
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| Yeah
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| Legbreakers, so you know we not fakers
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| Breaking you up, nigga, is how we get paper
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| Please pay us, don’t ever try to play us
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| Or we let them things go with the hollow-point chasers
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| Legbreakers, so you know we not fakers
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| Breaking you up, nigga, is how we get paper
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| Please pay us, don’t ever try to play us
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| Or we let them things go with the hollow-point chasers
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| When you owe me dough, I don’t hesitate, I’m hurting ya
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| Run up in your spot, breaking up your furniture
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| I’m not particular, I’ll snap your fibula
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| You’ll be telling me safe numbers while I be hitting ya
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| Yes, I’m a bad man, Boston’s muscler
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| Breaking legs for dough is how I hustle ya
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| I don’t got many friends so I’m short on emotions
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| So I have no problems with throwing you in the ocean
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| Pay me my money, C notes and more
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| Or get your head bashed through the front door
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| Ankles broke, pound driven to the floor
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| Whip you in the face with the butt of a forty four
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| I’m not playing, I’ll leave you people laying
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| This is what happens when you’re late on paying
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| Whipping asses for cash, some say it’s old school
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| So I beat your ass first then I use the tool
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| Frank and style, I rip your teeth out your head
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| Throw you in the back of a truck wrapped in a bed spread
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| Front on the dough and get your whole crib smoked
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| Pay me my money or get your fucking legs broke
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| Yeah
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| Legbreakers, so you know we not fakers
|
| Breaking you up, nigga, is how we get paper
|
| Please pay us, don’t ever try to play us
|
| Or we let them things go with the hollow-point chasers
|
| Legbreakers, so you know we not fakers
|
| Breaking you up, nigga, is how we get paper
|
| Please pay us, don’t ever try to play us
|
| Or we let them things go with the hollow-point chasers
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| A-yo murder, murder, murder, kill, kill, kill
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| Sean Price motherfucker from the, the, the 'Ville
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| My pops took my moms, I’m as mean, his seed
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| 'Cause I break legs and smoke all the greenest weed
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| You forgot to mention, I let the shotgun blast
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| I don’t rock with my pops duke, my pops is ass
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| One, two, y’all check it out
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| Me wanting two checks before I deck your mouth
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| Listen, got my mind on my money, money on my mind
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| Hand on my nine par, I’m trying to get mine
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| When niggas act stupid when the see the gun cocked
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| Slapped with an elephant bone like Ong-Bak
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| Have my fucking money by the time the sun drop
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| I’mma eat your food, what the fuck in your lunchbox?
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| Man make the money, money make the man
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| Get whatever, get my cash or I’m breaking your legs Fam
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| Legbreakers, so you know we not fakers
|
| Breaking you up, nigga, is how we get paper
|
| Please pay us, don’t ever try to play us
|
| Or we let them things go with the hollow-point chasers
|
| Legbreakers, so you know we not fakers
|
| Breaking you up, nigga, is how we get paper
|
| Please pay us, don’t ever try to play us
|
| Or we let them things go with the hollow-point chasers |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Legbreakers, artist - Big Shug. Album song Street Champ, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп