Lyrics Felonies - Boyz N Da Hood

Felonies

What’s up with partner, Where he live, Where he stay at
Where the ice, where the bread, where the yay at?
I’m telling you man you don’t want it with dem boyz
Everyone of them got felonies man!
I’m slap me a nigga, before its over with
I’m rush me a nigga, before its over with
Duct tape me a nigga, before its over with
I’m bust me a nigga, before its over with
I’m sick & I’m tired of niggas asking bout mine
If I’m cockin' that iron, I’m telling you I’m sending them signs
I move fast forward I ain’t got no button to rewind
I react of instinct I ain’t stressing' no time
I came a long way from peddlin' rocks
Block recognized the gangsta & he up my stock
Showed me the recipe & other grams I copped
Home ain’t a home with outta arm & hammer box
Shit, Jeezy just be beeped on that cell
Got them pre-teen numbers I like, like R. Kelly (I got that work nigga)
Lotta niggas they be claimin' the spot
But we the only ones that still represent it like mascots
So ask not why my attitude is shitty
Step aside while a real nigga move the city, huh
From my block to your block niggas know me
They know that ol' reppin' ass niggas a O. G
We use to rock flip-flops, tube socks with gold teeth
And a flip flop crease with gold shoes on all they feet
Please believe we ain’t playing no games
But I will take a charge if you try to drive my lane
Plus I gotta donkey dick to drive the broads insane
I’m a street cat, shit you know I’m hard to tame
I’m a gangsta motherfucka if you ever seen one
Black fitted cap nigga & some Air Force One’s
Hey and I’m strapped so don’t set trip
.45 hit cha make your whole chest split
Sleepy Brown nigga I can’t wait
Fifty grand round my neck like bait
Hey and keep thinking its gravy
Everybody from my hood know Jeezy is crazy
And I ain’t playin' wit cha motherfuckers
Shoot both of y’all make y’all niggas blood brothers (that's righhht)
And I’m so sincere, I ain’t playing wit cha niggas this year
(Hey we gone rob dem Boyz n Da Hood) Bitch please
I’ll kill a mothafucker by Jody Breeze
Yeah nigga that’s the truth, by Big Dee Big Duke I’ll shoot
I’m telling you man I be rollin' on dem corner no Range no necklace man
Range Rover no rims left they neck in the pain
And put the silencer on the tip professional man
Pressure point blank like a sexual change
And split cha head down the middle like a sectional man
Hard blow to hard coat expose the four
Even though I tote gun I don’t rob no more
Now here I go on the patio with a flat head screwdriver
Prying on the side door in a gat proof suit liner
Calm but I’m wide open they act I’m do something
Quite its going down on 'em with a Mack 11 two rifle
Pistol, pumps, switch & knives
Pistol grips, smoked clips, nightsticks & players
No myth I’m him fucka get hypnotized
Now get killed in the mist we suggest you ride
Well I’m the youngest in the click boy try me like a bitch
And I’ll bet cha I’ll be the first to punch you in ya shit
Y’all niggas just talking, y’all niggas ain’t ready
Y’all niggas don’t want none of this
While y’all out spending 100's on your necks
Spending 100's on your wrist, spending 100's on your rims
I’m on the block spending 100's on bricks
Sending 100's to the J gotta 100 more fits
Fake niggas get killed round here
Its trill in the ville betta get it how you live
And if not cock back bust at cha cock suckers motherfucka in fact I will
Cause the niggas that I roll with and blow dro with
Fuck hoes with they outta control
Realer in bumpin' chevy’s with Mac 11's holdin' it steady
Ready to put seven up in your belly boy