| Don’t niggas don’t wanna start shit
|
| Buck, buck to the bang
|
| Sendin' bullets to the brain, nigga, yeah
|
| A nigga that always at my city with me
|
| Now, who was that nigga they put in the plastic?
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| Nigga that thought he could bang
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| That nigga’s stuck
|
| That nigga’s blasted
|
| They got my man from the Land
|
| Never ran, I step with deadly men
|
| If ya come a little bit closer
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| I can turn you into sand
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| Now follow me, now roll, stroll down to Cleveland
|
| We thuggin', we theivin', we put it in deep
|
| And the blood is seepin'
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| Got niggas in alleys
|
| Fuck niggas in badges, we say bang
|
| Eighty-eight through ten-five and Clair
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| St. Clair ain’t shit to fuck with
|
| Pumpin', Krayzie be bumpin', dumpin' the bloody body
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| Me never knew one that could flow with the tongue
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| We comin' to shoot up your posse
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| My niggas-they comin' up out the woods
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| To get the goods, Krayzie be thug
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| And (want to) die-that's from comin' up in my hood
|
| We killers, get a gat, pap, pap, clack back me gun
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| Bust one, they done
|
| Cleveland is where we from
|
| Hearts-thugs have none
|
| Hi-tecs and khakis when jackin', sawed-off
|
| There’s really no place to run
|
| Niggas get vicious with my click
|
| 'Cause even the bitches carry guns
|
| Hi-tecs and khakis when jackin', sawed-off
|
| There’s really no place to run
|
| Niggas get vicious with my click
|
| 'Cause even the bitches carry guns
|
| Soon as I hit the scene (setting)
|
| Feelin' for the pistol
|
| But I didn’t have no gun
|
| Come with original thugsta shit
|
| I be flippin' it with me tongue
|
| Nigga, Cleveland is the city where we come from
|
| And I show them hoes up outta the Clair that thugs don’t run from none
|
| Follow rip one, now, on and on
|
| Them definitely got me back
|
| And I’m throwin' up St. Clair thugsta niggas
|
| With or without my gat
|
| Forever be ready to pull out me murder tools East 99 style, fools
|
| Me put it in mind on murderin' you
|
| Followin' whenever me murderous trues
|
| Niggas that claim to bang bang
|
| When it comes to slang thangs, they do
|
| They know they cannot buck me
|
| One of 'em sure to slug me
|
| But they hope the thug I be, Bizzy
|
| Better let 'em him be or they’ll see
|
| Nigga, hangin', swangin', never to miss. |
| The Biz is me
|
| Hi-tecs and khakis when jackin', sawed-off
|
| There’s really no place to run
|
| Niggas get vicious with my click
|
| 'Cause even the bitches carry guns
|
| Hi-tecs and khakis when jackin', sawed-off
|
| There’s really no place to run
|
| Niggas get vicious with my click
|
| 'Cause even the bitches carry guns
|
| Livin' in the Land of the Heartless
|
| With a sawed-off pump, shootin' craps
|
| Hand on my strap, roll thick, cause they jack
|
| Runnin' up on the Bone, you needin' to be pap pap
|
| Soldier thugs be pumpin' them slugs
|
| Defendin' they drugs
|
| When they roll up, niggas be creepin' up slow
|
| Heavy packed with they gats
|
| And try to pull a hold up
|
| But nigga, now hold on
|
| Wanna test the Bone?
|
| The gauge is shown, any is mind blown
|
| Lookin' down the barrel of this Mossberg chrome to the dome
|
| Bone, clack back me gauge in a rage
|
| Copper take these here rocks, Double Glock
|
| My pistols be pumpin' and buckin' out shots whenever
|
| The trouble knocks
|
| Steadily hittin', me clean up
|
| Get lit up for ready your soul to burn
|
| And I blow your shit up, get 'em on the get up
|
| Cause niggas must learn
|
| Yearnin' to earn cheese
|
| Ready to die, so niggas can’t take these
|
| Wantin' to clock G’s, want to move keys
|
| Not takin' a loss on my green leaves, please
|
| East nine nine, crime finds mine
|
| Strayin' on this road to hell
|
| And prison walls, testin' balls
|
| For the cause, gotta get that sale
|
| And bailin', kickin' up mud, rollin'
|
| I get with my thugs
|
| Rippin' apart shit, so nigga, don’t start shit
|
| Cause we kill in the Land of the Heartless, Die
|
| Hi-tecs and khakis when jackin', sawed-off
|
| There’s really no place to run
|
| Niggas get vicious with my click
|
| 'Cause even the bitches carry guns
|
| Hi-tecs and khakis when jackin', sawed-off
|
| There’s really no place to run
|
| Niggas get vicious with my click
|
| 'Cause even the bitches carry guns
|
| Hi-tecs and khakis when jackin', sawed-off
|
| There’s really no place to run
|
| Niggas get vicious with my click
|
| 'Cause even the bitches carry guns
|
| Hi-tecs and khakis when jackin', sawed-off
|
| There’s really no place to run
|
| Niggas get vicious with my click
|
| 'Cause even the bitches carry guns |