Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song 187 , by - C-Bo. Release date: 02.07.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
187 |
| «If you’re an MC and you mention my name in the wrong way |
| You draw first blood, I’m gonna come at you» |
| War Lab, call us haters all you want |
| Fuck it call me a hater, full blown instigator |
| Leavin niggas on intubators breathin like Darth Vader |
| I hate people that pack guns but they don’t bust 'em |
| Or bitches that come back to my room but they ain’t fuckin |
| Pistol clutchin, the Dozen, you heard it don’t get is misconstrued |
| Whatever we do’ll hit the news once we get the tools |
| You’re an emcee and you mention my name |
| In the wrong way, and you draw first blood, I’m comin |
| You pushed D-12 to the side to sign Voltron 5 |
| If Proof was alive he’d be dyin' inside |
| You ain’t no hip-hop messiah, you a bitch, 'cause you dissed Mariah |
| Shit like that supposed to be private |
| I’m a fry you on behalf on Mariah and Michael |
| Put you back on them drugs, make you suicidal |
| You can’t shut the record down, nigga it’s vival |
| When you use the word 'nigga', just remember your idols |
| I got a question, I’m white, can I join D12? |
| I’ll sell you four million records then I’ll tell you go to hell |
| Leave Swifty in charge, then remove all the stars |
| And make the group wish Bizarre shot pool in a bar |
| An assault lawyer stop the beat, suing us all |
| I really do hope you know who get involved |
| Cause I’m a fan and I’ll get you for a Nick Cannon dissin |
| And you already know how fuckin sick Canibus is |
| I hate a bitch-ass nigga just as much as I hate fags |
| I love goin to war but I hate when they raise the flag |
| These niggas hittin the streets spittin venom on me |
| Then start renegin the beef, I hate peace treaties |
| Forever yo' enemy I increase beef as Amityville’s finest |
| Cause I don’t believe in stoppin violence |
| I’m a tyrant that’ll snatch my respect and scram |
| I use a uzi cause I hate a Tec when it jams |
| I hate when dudes treat this like life a movie |
| Usin rap as his excuse to do shit and they only move ki’s in the booth |
| I piss on niggas hands, whoever’s grown, patches and tombstones |
| I hate 'em ass when I break into a home |
| I’m barefaced, I clap your cat, ramsack it |
| That’s what I’m wearin black and I hate goin out the back |
| So call me a hater, walkin detonator, I ain’t afraid |
| To stick this blade into your fade in front of spectators |
| You’re an emcee, big small it doesn’t matter |
| No matter how big I get, I just want people to know |
| You the devil in a red dress on MTV |
| You sign more black people than a basketball team |
| What sou trying to say subconsciously? |
| You can’t rock the beat like me |
| Consciously you know I rock you to sleep |
| Slim Shady you a coward 'cause you scared to rap with me |
| The only black man you respect is 50 |
| And the greatest of all time was dead right |
| You dead wrong, you shouldn’t have even be on that song |
| He fell off so hard this faggot broke his accent |
| I’m flippin through the channels seein Bruno get his ass sniffed |
| And I’m disgusted man, what the fuck is wrong with you? |
| Why’d you date Mariah? |
| Mariah’s not a fuckin dude |
| You never even saw her nude and you busted two |
| Must have been thinkin 'bout your stepdad touchin you |
| But that ain’t nothin new, I asked your ugly crew |
| They verified it, so bitch quit lyin |
| I remember the first time we met, I ain’t even liked you |
| Walkin' around my vido set like you was in high school |
| It must excite you seeing black people being tribal |
| That’s why Dr. Dre signed you |
| I bet you right now you got a big rotten Rosenberg beside you |
| Trying to be just like your father, inside you |
| Your Stan android fanboys need to kill that noise |
| I know what you thinking… kill that boy |
| We leavin Elvis funny money makin pelvis shattered |
| Let’s see you square dance now, let’s see you hold your bladder |
| Let’s see you fire back Em where’s the fire at it? |
| Suicide hotline time, go dial that |
| Put on that «8 Mile"hat and write a vile track |
| Get at some people that can actually diss you back |
| No more target practice on retarded actors |
| And pop stars, Marshall you’re not hard |
| Whatever happens to me in this game |
| I’ve always got my ear to the street |
| Rengade Schemenegade, you pink like lemonade |
| I’ve been better than you before Genesis was made |
| You ain’t better than Black Thought, you ain’t better than Mos Def |
| You ain’t better than Canibus, Professor Griff Hotep |
| So renegade Schemenegade, you pink like lemonade |
| I penetrate through Hailey’s Comet with metal blades |
| Yeah! |
| You and I both know why I’m saying this |
| I hope Whoo Kid get fired for playing this |
| Get off, Nikolai Volkoff, mazeltov |
| Ready to show off, fo'-fo'll blow your do' off |
| Blowin off steam, goin off the beam |
| Let the 9 sing, bitch this ain’t a dream |
| Bitch I’m the king, color me bad |
| Skinny jeans, what happened to the sag? |
| You makin me mad |
| Y’all a bunch of JJ Fags, now who the fuck is bad? |
| Motherfucker I’m bad! |
| Call me a hater |