Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Creepin On Ah Come Up, artist - Bone Thugs-N-Harmony.
Date of issue: 20.06.1994
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Creepin On Ah Come Up |
Right about now, Thugs-n-harmony is on a come up |
So to all you bustas out there, beware |
Stalkin' (gat fools), walkin' jack moves |
Woke up this morning with the thought of robbin' a bank to get rich |
Ain’t ate in days so it ain’t no thang to click click, bitch, gimme your shit |
Fresh out the pen, and I’m low on ends, fuck calm, I tried to stay thug |
Got flowin' skills, but niggas, they bitches, now I just can’t buy my bud |
With my steel, grabbed the forty-four mag plus a sack |
And I snag my leather rag, can’t reveal when I glide with the moneybag |
Ride to the hide, count my flags. |
I be livin' on the darkside |
And I can’t escape, some say it’s a phase |
If it is, only way I’m gonna survive is if I play with my gauge |
It’s a raid. |
Put your face to pave |
If you try to play brave, you’ll get slayed |
Pull down them shades, empty your pockets, watches, jewels, and you’ll be safe |
I snatched the clerk up by her neck, put the gun in her mouth and said |
«Bitch, you better move quick back to the safe |
If you wanna be killed try some stupid shit |
And pushin' that panic switch will get you nowhere but hell» |
Trail to the back with the money in the sack |
Locked 'em all in the vault, time to bail |
Well, tickets I’m out the door |
Hopped in the smug, and I break fast |
Get to my pad, sit back and laugh, loc’d out as I flip through my cash |
At last, nigga made good, and I got away smooth |
Now, I’m straight. |
Covered my tracks |
Only description is that nigga with that leather face, fool |
I gotta get mine, and if you stall, then I’m gunnin' |
Just work your job, get paid. |
I’ll rob ya |
See, a nigga creep on a come up |
Stalkin' (gat fools), walkin' jack moves |
See, I’m sittin' in my room, and a nigga feelin' down |
Steady thinkin' 'bout how to get paid |
Gotta gauge at my waist that be spellin' out murder |
That’ll get a nigga locked the cage |
Lay my head to bed, start to thinkin' hard, money is the cause |
What can I do me for? |
Need to hit a lick, not a bullshit |
But a real lick, like robbin' a jewelery store |
Select which one will I raid. |
Got be headin' downtown |
Cause tonight’s the night |
Dressed in my black, wearin' makeup on my face |
So a nigga can’t be seen in the spotlight |
Stole two cars, and I parked one north |
Parked one east for the smooth switch |
When a nigga bail, how the fuck he gonna tell if a |
Nigga don’t dwell in the same shit? |
Climb to the roof, and I’m peepin' out the scene |
And there’s no one I can spot, so I get my ass down |
Looked around through the window, and I broke the bitch out with a rock |
Now I jump my ass in. Start to fillin' up the bag |
And a nigga comin' up on these diamonds |
Grabbed a couple herring bones, and some rings |
And some (brooches), still thinkin' how them diamonds was shining |
Went to the cash register, broke the bitch open |
Grabbed all the money they had |
And a nigga gettin' goin' gone to Bone, yeah |
Got to let my niggas check out my bag |
And I got away smooth, cause I had the shit planned |
And ain’t no bullshit get brung up |
That’s what I gotta do if I wanna get paid |
Cause a nigga be creepin' on a come up |
Stalkin' (gat fools), walkin' jack moves |
Downin' Jamacian spliffs, little nigga Ripsta on this lick and bang bang |
Nigga that’s the click on my brain,? |
another victim insane |
Feel the murderous nerve |
This twelve shot pump, and I gotta bigger gat to back me |
Peelin' in my smug, thug, hoody, black skully, black khakis |
Creepin' in my smug, so reapin', peek into the window, let me cock this |
Nigga must’ve been meant to be jacked, cause here comes me hostage |
Up outta the door, with a pump to her temple, shoulda seen her tremble |
Push any alarms, and I drop them bombs on moms |
It’s just that simple. |
I took my conscience and fried 'em |
Don’t gimme no hassle, bitch, cause I’ve been scopin' for weeks |
And I know y’all got some shit |
Clack back me gun, hollow point mixed with dum-dum kickin' |
Ladies and babies scream onto the floor |
(«Shut up and listen!») It’s a jack move, fools |
Give me the jewels, the dope, the weed, the cheese |
And answer me: why and you hoes is cryin', cause bitches are dyin'? |
Blood clot, here to be dead what one of them niggas said |
Buckshots up into them dreads, and I love when I hear them pump red |
One that callin' me bluff, I stuffed him with the quickness |
He made out with a smooth thirty G’s |
So all bodies must bleed, I need no witness |
So with a me slug, mo thug jumped into him smug, rolled the blunt up |
Good stuff reefer, hitted the Bone to give up love to my thugs |
Cause I done made it clean as fuck, and I flees the scene with a buck buck |
Cause a nigga be creepin' on a come up |
Stalkin' gat fools, walkin' jack moves |