Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Felonies, artist - Boyz N Da Hood.
Date of issue: 20.06.2005
Song language: English
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 |