| Yo, Big T, Bizarre
|
| Midwest niggas, I don’t give a fuck
|
| George «The Animal» Steele mixed with Buffalo Bill
|
| Nine concealed, I’m ready to die for real
|
| Everybody, on Earth can get wet
|
| Sixteen Vicodin, fourteen Percocet
|
| Bad, yeah, spot it I get him
|
| Doctors, nurses, hospitals gotta admit it
|
| I beat a bitch down worser than Chris Brown
|
| Move the car into Illinois, how y’all with trey pounds?
|
| Loud sounds, AKs start to click
|
| (Pow, pow) Somebody got they ass hit
|
| Roll kush blunts, got me elevated
|
| January 15th, we still celebratin'
|
| Guns and ammo, I got a lot of toys
|
| A fuckin' lunatic, I shoot my own boy
|
| I pull that thang, put two in your brain
|
| Yo Big T (Yo), my boy James remains (Biz), fuck it
|
| I lost my mind long time ago
|
| Not when I got shot, long time befo'
|
| So I sleep alongside a fo'
|
| With potato on the belt when they think Idaho
|
| They pull my card, I’d have known
|
| Shuffle niggas' decks, which way I’d a roll
|
| Masked up, make a lot of soul,, so I ain’t liable
|
| made a giant, fire hit him anyway he try to go
|
| Beatin' me is like Big Baby gone rogue
|
| lane try to sco'
|
| Fuckin' slow, what else do you wanna know?
|
| I got no love for a fuckin' hoe
|
| Kick rocks bitch, with your new boy drop kick, baby thrown in a mosh pit
|
| Constantly shittin' on niggas, and I’ma pee on hoes
|
| They know lyrically, I keep a diary of flow
|
| And I’m exposin' you hoes like a picture
|
| You bitch niggas be usin' brass knuckles for dentures
|
| I don’t call her, aim at their brains like a zombie
|
| With a stainless steel and deranged army
|
| I don’t accept sorry, your bitch be grabbin' on this dick like an Atari joystick
|
| A pussy as wide as a garage with five SUVs in it
|
| Niggas mistake me like mirages till the beef’s ended
|
| They love smilin' in your face on some fake shit
|
| All in their necks niggas dick, and they love tastin' it
|
| I just wanna, the on my outro
|
| My vehicle is laced with duct tape and a
|
| I drive around the city as crooked as
|
| Bust in yo' crib and blow your chest through the backdoor
|
| This ain’t checkers bitch, this chess, you did not know?
|
| I check yo' mate and slap the snot outta nostril
|
| I’m pullin' your card hoes, motherfuck that Benedict Arnold
|
| Niggas scared to come around and get bombed on
|
| Remain frightened, like a popped condom inside of the vagina of a prostitute,
|
| dyin' from the common cold
|
| Quick to unload on niggas in an instant
|
| That goes for anybody that’s ridin' on that bitch shit, fuck you
|
| Much love, I give ‘em pounds and hugs
|
| When you walk away I hit you in the back with a slug
|
| Your main bitch is on my nuts, lookin' horny as fuck
|
| Without wrestlin', she said she need my cobra to clutch
|
| On the roll with the .44 I’m packin' on the bus
|
| Baggin' up a bunch of bullets like I’m packin' for a lunch
|
| Packin' a punch, I’m Runyon Ave bred, get your mind right
|
| Or get it blown to the back of your head, now in hindsight
|
| Shouldn’t have never tested him, blessed with a curse
|
| Dressed in all black like I’m grippin' a hearse, a clever specimen
|
| Captain of my regimen, take me to court
|
| And we can settle out of court for nine mill is what settlement
|
| Fuck you, the system, and anyone who be lyin' up
|
| Push your moms off the ladder of a movin' firetruck
|
| We the rawest, sniffin' ‘caine, puffin' trees
|
| And some and the fedora, I’m grippin' the stolen
|
| Blaze somethin' up, pass the Hennesey or get your mouth split
|
| And your pops beat up out his button up
|
| We be clubbin' like Ice Cube, and get you jumped by a bunch of white dudes,
|
| stomped out with some spiked boots (Fuck you dude) |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Midwest Nigga , by - Bizarre. Song from the album DJ Smokey Gray Presents Compilation Album Volume 10, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп