Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 2 Bogus, artist - Crucial ConflictDate of issue: 31.12.1997
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
2 Bogus |
| We bogus bogus and mafia! |
| Say what? |
| Stand tall when this shit jump off |
| Better back back down |
| Got a wild wolf pack attack |
| We’ll body snatch em, crack em |
| Detach and smack em |
| Run from the gun finna have you some |
| Spin em around ready to drown em |
| Missin arm leg leg arm head they found em stankin |
| 'cause he wasn’t ready for the wild gankin |
| Blindfold execution style |
| Certified straight lunatic bucked |
| Cook County bounty rowdy better be audi |
| Bangers fulla anger, step into my chamber |
| Oh I’m finna hang ya, rodeo ranglers |
| Ride, east coast west coast |
| In the middle, down south, 2 bogus |
| Hypnotized Minds with the Conflict bumpin |
| Your trunk and we steady dumpin |
| It’s a motherfuckin stick up |
| Giddy your shit up |
| Three 6 finna tear the motherfuckin club up |
| Crucial Conflict, click I roll with |
| Better get a bitch, war and straight gun up |
| Gimme that money, ain’t shit funny |
| Fuckin with a motherfuckin nigga from down south |
| Nigga think I’m ?tray? |
| hoe I ain’t ?tray? |
| Find this gun in your motherfuckin mouth, test me baby |
| If you think I’m playin, proof test me baby |
| If you know what I’m sayin |
| Got a couple motherfuckin niggas over here prayin |
| Got a couple motherfuckin niggas over here layin |
| Face down in the ground hopin dead they live |
| You ain’t Mafia, you don’t know the deal |
| Representin Memphis to the fullest and I got my gat |
| But it ain’t where you from it’s where you at |
| I’m in the golden, nigga |
| Well if your city’s hardest |
| Man have you seen the lives I feel that I have lived before |
| Paid to do my same life |
| Hopin I don’t get dropped bogus for nothin I do |
| Smoke Hay like them playas back in the 50's, it’s a new |
| We in the cell too |
| We could get clink claks and thousand suits |
| Lizard boots, a ring or two |
| How you move to the blue, how you call us crew |
| Fool, be cool what’s cool, you snooze you lose |
| Me and my down south niggas rule |
| Fuck the other nigga, we pay dues too |
| This goes out to all my niggas |
| Flippin cheese and countin figures |
| Put your boy up in the picture |
| Knowin I wanna be down with ya |
| Memphis niggas, Chi-Town niggas |
| Clicked up like notorious killas |
| Never focused, always bogus |
| Blunts and guns is all we totin |
| Constantly rollin, constantly rollin |
| Tight on white but weed I’m smokin |
| Every corner playas postin |
| Eyes are red from dope we chokin |
| All your hoes they blowin kisses |
| Pay attention to our pimpin |
| Flict, Nino, and the Juice |
| We tear the club up thugs and bitches |
| Bone solid! |
| 'cause papa was a rolling stone |
| Gotta get em on and it’s on but in the terror zone |
| Havin visions of glistens my posse ridin |
| Dippin in my stridin |
| Never slippin, just slidin, canivin |
| Bogus bogus nigga hopeful |
| Got that mossberg |
| Send the word, Kilo |
| Not because the mac spittin potent dope |
| And this overdose, comatose |
| We gon rush and drain your mind |
| It’s a Conflict in the ghetto |
| And we livin in crucial times |
| Scarecrow is frozen, not frozen and cold |
| We the cold terrorists, we have entered this city Chicago |
| Cruical the Conflict the Memphis streets is |
| Now you niggas know you can’t break (…) |
| I’ma let this mob take off |
| Won’t stop until I knock it off |
| The left fill it up till it wet and erupt |
| Erupt like muggin my type busta |
| Come get up in the middle of an inner city riddle |
| Wanna fill a figure up, and not just a little |
| Feel my force, of course you’re hoarse |
| From the rusty point of Scarecrow’s sickle |
| Stabbin up through the? |
| vouches? |
| Lord Infamous shock absorbin |
| I’m squishin like project roaches |
| 'cause we be the niggas 2 bogus 2 bogus |
| Smile for the bullhorn the alarm to run |
| Gun got me so gone hit em son |
| We the number one young gun |
| Hold em up or fold em up son no love for none |
| Run up and get done punk |
| Hit em up jump straight bucked |
| When it dump it come bullet’ll thump ya junk |
| It’s on fool pull the wrong move |
| And soon lose ya like Lucifer |
| In the middle make a fool of ya |
| Ruin ya nigga choose and get abused ya crushed |
| Huh? |
| Where ya nuts son? |
| I got Chicago straight Chicago |
| 98 shit figured up on John Doe |
| In the roll no flow peepin at all |
| Close to coast close to crawl |
| Bump em all, put em in shock |
| 'cause ya can’t walk or walk |
| If ya know who the boss, pack it up |
| Ya lost, say what? |
| (till fade) |