Lyrics You're Fuckin' With BC - Body Count

You're Fuckin' With BC - Body Count
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song You're Fuckin' With BC, artist - Body Count. Album song Violent Demise: The Last Days, in the genre Ню-метал
Date of issue: 31.12.1996
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Virgin
Song language: English

You're Fuckin' With BC

The ill niggas!
You’re fuckin with the
kill niggas!
You’re fuckin with the
hard liquor!
You’re fuckin with the
bitch dickas!
You’re fuckin with the
cash makin, life takin, overlord,
street hustlin, quick bustin, snitch dustin,
body dumpin, gauge pumpin,
clean dresser, mic blesser, shallow
graves are in the desert,
fuckin with my niggas from the Central,
why?
You’ll die!
I can make ya missin fuckin with
the unforgiven,
cop killer, blood spiller, but still a
million seller.
Run and tell your fuckin mother,
Body Count is on the cover,
of Murder Monthly, bitch best back up
off me.
You’re fuckin with BC.
You’re fuckin with BC.
You’re fuckin with BC.
Do you know who you’re fuckin with?
Ghetto dwellin, drug sellin, pussy suckin,
hard fuckin,
drive by’n, do or die’n, bitch smackin,
cash stackin,
switch hittin, game spittin, hustlin’s how I
make my livin,
hit ridin, pit fightin, motherfuckin street
titan.
Gang related, frustated, gun tote’n, ran-
some note’n,
park muggin, born thuggin, jewelry wear-
er, hood terror.
Steppin’s where you made your error,
now you’re bleedin, heart speedin.
Now you feel your life leavin,
Yo, your fuckin mom’s grievin.
The ill niggas!
The kill niggas!
Benz mashin, club crashin, high fashion,
jewelry bashin,
child snatcher, hoe catcher, neck slasher.
Mic rippin, set trippin, coke boilin,
gun oil’n,
car jackin, head crackin, bank robbin,
roof jobbin,
laser scope’n, hostage ropin,
known to get your safe open,
shoot you in your back nigga,
the hair trigga.
Banana clip loader, LAPD get my
fuckin folder,
known killer, jaw sweller, feds dug up
my fuckin cellar.
Drama maker, law breaker, violent talker,
pig stalker,
Shot gunner, drug runner, blowin up this
fuckin summer.
Handgrenade’n, home invadin, vest
wearin, cold starin,
Body Count the street vets, known to get
your chest wet!
Do you know who you’re fuckin with?
The ill niggas!
You’re fuckin with the
kill niggas!
You’re fuckin with the
hard liquor!
You’re fuckin with the
bitch dickas!
Do you know who you’re fuckin with?

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Artist lyrics: Body Count