Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Legendary DJ Screw, artist - Bun B. Album song Trill O.G. "The Epilogue", in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 10.11.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Rap-A-Lot
Song language: English
The Legendary DJ Screw |
This is dedicated, to the legendary |
DJ Screw |
Now once upon a time not long ago |
Where they come down candy, and live life low |
Where the fours stay chromey, and they grippin' on wood |
And people all behave like it’s all to the good |
Then came a young player from the Southside streets |
Who had dreams of making music, with slowed down beats |
He jumped on the tables made it do what it do |
And so begins the legend of DJ Screw |
(Scratched) This is dedicated to the legendary DJ Screw |
Jeah |
Six in the morning, Feds at my door |
Quarter mil' on the floor, the city where everything shows |
Yeah, still bang Screw, we love it mayne |
I know he gone, but nothing changed |
Hawk, P.A.T., M.O.E. |
they all above us, mayne |
Down here he grind and hustle, mayne |
Can’t forget Chad Butler mayne |
Still swang on 84's, a mirror-glass like buzzers mayne |
Grab the Louie duffle man, S.U.C. |
still in this thing |
I know my dog gone, Robert Davis, we gon' do it mayne |
See, I love this life |
This is Screwed Up Click |
Don’t quote me, dog |
You’ll get screwed up quick |
Still we blew one quick |
My 84's, they stick |
On 24's, we sit |
You know we holdin' it, bitch |
I’mma do this hit for Screw |
For Hawk, for Pat |
Even though we pushin' powder |
But the trunk, be crack |
R.I.P. |
to Jimmy T |
Nigga, I’mma swang in the 'Lac |
That’s how it s’posed, to be |
(Jeah) |
One of the realest to do this shit |
Used to Texas Screwed up, quick |
Yeah, the tracks, Screw’ll bring it back |
No one better that you can get |
For my nigga Robert Davis |
Chop it up, Screw my shit |
Now the true representation, making sure the world knew this shit |
Every time you think of double cups, or swangers peekin' out the boards |
Freestylin' off top of dome, or grills covered in ice and gold |
Dealers salute the General, point-black, no subliminal |
Tell 'em we Screwed up Texas, we go fed like a criminal |
Here’s a little story about a nigga like me |
Fat Rat Wit Da Cheeze, nigga, S.U.C |
South-west, H-Town, all of that’s me |
If a ho is cotton-mouth I wouldn’t give a bitch P |
I’m so Screwed up nigga say I talk slow |
I say I listen fast when you niggas talk doe |
And nah, I can’t touch if the shit is not dro |
If the drink is not purple, and the bitches no -whoa- |
Dark blue Regal, or a Screw Blue Impala |
Helpin' everybody, that’s what he used to with this dollars |
No collars, just t-shirts and Dickies |
Even though he had a lot to do |
He was never too busy to come and get me |
I’m really Screwed Up Click, Robert Earl Davis put me in |
Not a friend of a friend of a friend, of a friend |
I can see him spinnin' records in Heaven in all white |
Like he used to do on 22−34 all night |
Niggas I feel that’s talkin' shit |
Niggas I feel that’s ridin' dick |
Talkin' down on the Screwed Up Click |
They must don’t know who they fuckin' wit' |
5-Star General of the S.U.C |
Want my clique, gotta go through me |
Go through Key, and Mike. |
D |
Then you gotta go through Big Pokey |
Who you know a nigga hard as me? |
Who you nigga know is smart as me? |
Niggas wanna know how hard is he |
I’m hard as the Baltimore Raven’s D |
Betcha ain’t see, like a real |
Hardest nigga I feel, with no deal |
Plowin' through niggas like a snowmobile |
And I make beats that the real can feel |