Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 7 Sign, artist - Bone Thugs-N-Harmony. Date of issue: 04.08.1997
Song language: English
7 Sign |
| Yeah, this for all you non-believers |
| Especially out in the C-O |
| Man, fuck y’all niggas |
| Woo! |
| Yeah, I’m talented |
| When I die, you can see what’s deep in my eye (my eye) |
| Woo! |
| Yeah, I’m talented |
| When I die, you can see what’s deep in my eye (my eye) |
| 7 Sign… |
| I put who got you, too, who shot you |
| Who got you, Glock you and stop you (stop you, stop you) |
| Look who got you, too, who shot you |
| Who got you, pop you and stop you (stop you, stop you) |
| Nigga, this Mo Thug and we can get fucked-up |
| Even if I’m under surveillance, I watch out |
| Wanna win, and fuck 'em up daily, throwin' up 7 |
| What am I yellin'? |
| Murderer |
| Nigga, once you come you must pay like crazy if you |
| (Muthafucka, don’t play me) play me |
| Nigga, not today |
| I see you but you can’t see me |
| I know with all of government and |
| Yes, this will get crazy and blow (bomb, bomb, bomb, bomb) |
| Got your mind blown, vocal tones keep it sewn |
| Blastin' out your steroes or your headphones |
| The roots exploited clones; |
| therefore |
| It’s my job to describe the loudness, the habitat of rap survival kit |
| Artistic skin abrasion, so when 'em fadin' my worldly reflections |
| It’s magnified to new levels of elevation |
| Woo! |
| Yeah, I’m talented |
| When I die, you can see what’s deep in my eye (my eye) |
| Woo! |
| Yeah, I’m talented |
| When I die, you can see what’s deep in my eye (my eye) |
| I put who got you, too, who shot you |
| Who got you, Glock you and stop you (stop you, stop you) |
| Look who got you, too, who shot you |
| Who got you, pop you and stop you (stop you, stop you) |
| The Rip here to run in the street |
| And flippin' on police, yeah they know me |
| I’m not lonely, only, show me when the smoke clears |
| And at least I had my homie and a nigga, K, homie |
| All bitches, look into it as you want the real killa? |
| Well, pull out your pistol, bitch, and shoot it, shoot it |
| And you knew it, do it, when, when you looked in my eyes |
| I’m ready to die |
| And I hope my mama really loves me |
| Cause daddy’s bye-bye |
| Inner pride with the Ripsta |
| Let 'em hit ya with the scripture |
| Picture me locked out and smoked out with a half of fifth of |
| Three sixty-five, I revolve around trees |
| They’ll be Japanese Maje$ty's corruptin' record companies |
| Nigga, jump for cheese, catch sub-zero freeze |
| And crack once the atmosphere brings the temperature back |
| Slacks only in dress pants |
| Have you ever danced with the devil in pale moonlight? |
| I have, Hollywood niggas make me laugh |
| Sell a dream to 'em |
| Cash, no royality, grab they royal keys and dash |
| My overhead projects how ends meet to foul or ejected |
| Lyrics was selected beyond my control, last door on the totem pole |
| Pockets swoll from tape residue, last interview and went in daytime |
| It’s made a promise to let down smooth criminals gently in my business |
| Grab your earlobe and bend, this is big business, buy tapes |
| Don’t lend, niggas mad while I scrap change for phillies, why grill me? |
| Got bigger balls to chase waterfalls with Chili |
| Explore on four wheels or foot, I bring it to that ass over the hook |
| So when you slip, gots it. |
| I ride up on it |
| I had to maintain my mental frame, and now I’m Boneless |
| Word sound 'til I’m foamin' |
| Cybergenics wanted my genes for clonin' |
| Disownin' heads like Romans fight rebel Trojans |
| More than civil suits make my longevity boost, articles |
| And promotions make me more potent |
| Deadly to the mind, 'causin' somethin' to be blind |
| Re-define lines entertwined with all mankind |
| Would that rain outshine divine Maje$ty, shame |
| The boogie down punks is where the hearts still remain |
| I’m a let a nigga know |
| You know what I’m sayin', just right off the bat |
| I gives a fuck about no nigga |
| Don’t be no (corvie) — ass nigga |
| I’m tryin' to tell niggas that off the rip |
| Off the rippa, baby (I must me losin' my mind) |
| Where’s tha mob? |
| Find your specialty, let’s give this nigga a job |
| Is you ready for jail? |
| Yes and no, but somebody’s gonna try to rob |
| We can spar, but you’ll get drop (drop) |
| I’m a bomb, ready for war, will I p-pop pop |
| Been looking for miles, been doomed since the womb |
| When he put me in my tomb |
| I’ve been thuggin' so assume when I entered your room, boom |
| Stomped through Compton and cities y’all ain’t never heard of |
| And listen I bet there’s thousand people screamin' I’ll murder, murder it |
| Hypnotized, took off my shirt, I got alive |
| I’m tatted so when I die you can see what’s deep in my eyes |
| Trues ride but trues die, my nigga, don’t cry |
| I shedded my last tear when I found out love was a lie |
| So I try, but it ain’t nothin' for my mental |
| So piss off my pencil, and I blast, dash in a rental |
| One nigga got amped and off he in the trap with some |
| They took a chance and lost |
| Let’s spray everybody and gangsta gone |
| Don’t finish the wars when they ain’t over |
| I love you thugs, but all them skeletons got so close |
| And they got so hard if it ain’t starved |
| This family that don’t give a fuck who you are |
| It ain’t nothin' like some trouble |
| How close? |
| How far (how far, how far)? |