| Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha
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| Oh, shit
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| Be verwee, verwee, verwee quiet, I’m huntin' wabbits
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| I’ma let my nuts hang, nigga
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| In these tight pants until the buck spray
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| Or with a 12 gauge, I don’t give a fuck
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| Nigga, fuck them
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| Anybody, everybody with a bottle
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| No lie, without my army, I ain’t sorry
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| Little nigga, this Bone Thugs-N-Harmony
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| Set it off, say shorty got that Mossberg
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| Man the gun so big it’ll blow a nigga brain into crosswords
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| Little Ricky better run swerve
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| It’s that’s soft shores 'cause the god damn Converse
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| Chicken dippin' like it’s tossed served
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| But those lost words be the same but I saw worse
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| I had the sauce first
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| I let it thaw thristin' at y’al'
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| Arrogant and egotistical without a flaw
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| Standing there with no one beside ya like Guards
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| Drippin', I ain’t trippin', got a couple of 'em, dawg
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| Listen to me, pimpin', this is Cleveland, nigga
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| We get even, nigga, don’t be afraid of Steven
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| I’ll let big boy hit you with a SIG, boy
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| I’m like Sig Freud with that vulture breathin'
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| An enigma
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| And that culture need 'em
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| And I’m all the reason
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| I’ma load my nina 'cause it looks like a nigga gonna often need 'em
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| When I all see 'em runnin' like a mile a millimeter
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| But I am a good leader
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| I give you another banger
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| I give you another heater
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| Remember me, mother fucker
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| The gun on the album cover
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| I’m one of the tower brothers
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| The 50 in Power brother
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| The Michael of our brother
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| The cyclical nature that circles all around the brothers
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| It wouldn’t touch a nigga money, got the salary, brother
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| Micky and Mallory, brother
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| I got that cal on me, brother
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| With out no title you mother fuckers
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| I’m about to pull the musket out
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| And let it off in this mother fucker
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| Watch your mouth, you niggas soft in this mother fucker
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| Bet the industry just tossed you out
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| You all slaves on the label, little god damn cock suckers
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| Y’all livin' off show money
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| Get paid every first of the month, now that’s mo' money
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| Little B from the grave at the crossroads
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| When I look at my sons say, «That's your money»
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| Murda, murda, murda, I am general
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| You little niggas sure ain’t sweet
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| These niggas think we number runnin', I’m on TMZ
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| And I’m a free emcee
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| I got love for the young bouls
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| But that’s me
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| Little Lay in the building chasin' around little children
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| My niggas hunt
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| I can’t front but I’m chillin'
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| My artillery is steady, heated heavy every motherfuckin' place that I’ma go so
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| I be ready
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| Po-po been already here
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| Run out the back with the peer
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| Hopefully they will not follow me or I will pull out my pistol and pew-pew
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| BM is all in my DM
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| Bitch, I’ma call when I see 'em
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| Soon as they over eighteen and your money is gone, I’ma see how you bein'
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| Niggas is stealing my cams, Rippy to yams, yeah
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| Rippy to yams
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| And all of my people that roll with the Bone
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| When I’m comin' to give what we stand, uh
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| Po-po benn already here
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| Run out the back with the peer
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| Hopefully they will not follow me or I will pull out my pistol and pew-pew
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| Listen to me, pimpin', this is Cleveland, nigga
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| We get even, nigga
|
| Don’t be afraid of Steven
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| I let big boy hit you with a sig boy
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| I’m like Sig Freud with that vulture breathin'
|
| An enigma
|
| And that culture need 'em
|
| And I’m all the reason I’ma load my nina
|
| 'Cause it looks like a nigga gonna often need 'em
|
| When I all see 'em runnin' like a mile a millimeter |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Enigma , by - Bizzy Bone. Song from the album Carbon Monoxide, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп