| You know how we get nigga we wild in the club
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| Motherfuckers, everybody get crunk in Detroit too nigga!
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| So wile the fuck out!
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| Pour your 40 out. |
| (Guzzle It)
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| Bitch!!!
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| We fucked up,
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| Let us in the club.
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| One of y’all niggas gon' catch a slug, (Yeah)
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| I’m so drunk I could hurl for a month.
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| Any nigga pop shit, go to the trunk.
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| D12 start shit, nigga come get us,
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| 7 Mile Runyan, wild niggas wit us,
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| Cause all my niggas is talkin' that shit.
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| Ain’t got no problem, with smackin no bitch.
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| I’ll have my wife, cut your throat.
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| Blunts, gans, that’s all we smoke
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| Wild the fuck out, stab you with a knife,
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| It’s D12 nigga, we ready to fuckin' fight.
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| Biiitch
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| Who tryin' to be the first one to catch this blade in the throat!
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| You know the po-po don’t let me hold them toasters no mo'
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| I just cut three people, you gon' be number four
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| If you don’t back the fuck up, and get the fuck up off the flo'.
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| My crew is takin over as soon as we hit the do'
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| You hit the door then we comin' in and you goin' home.
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| Security that can’t even stop us because they know,
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| Runyan Avenue soldiers hold it down wherever we go.
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| Suckin on our 40's and holdin up .44's.
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| We come with toasters like we just opened saving’s and loans.
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| And we don’t need your brew tonight homie we brought our own.
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| So grab whatever you sippin on and let’s get it on!!!
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| We deep as a motherfuck, we 'bout to get it crunk
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| You just another punk in the club about to get jumped
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| I settle my vendettas with AK’s, Berettas
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| We dont supposed to be in here with our weapons but still they let us.
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| Switchblade, brass knuckles, nickel plated belt buckle.
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| Broken beer bottles, when we walk in you can smell trouble.
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| Elbows flying, bitches crying, niggas bleeding, you retreating.
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| Run into your car and skatin off, We G’ing
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| We make example out of you haters runnin' your mouth.
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| You the reason why your peoples is pourin they 40z out.
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| Dirty Dozen whiling, beat niggas bloodied.
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| And you gon' have to pour out a keg for all your homies.
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| Biiitch
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| I was raised by drunks, so I became a drunk.
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| 80 Proof for this rocker, that’s the name I want.
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| I’m in the club to beef, you gotta murder me there
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| Only talk to a bitch with burgundy hair.
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| Or the aisle in the back, bump a seven deuce.
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| See that top on that 40, you know it’s comin' loose.
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| See me on the Av. |
| daily, we runnin' this shit.
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| If your chick get loud, I g-money that bitch.
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| Packin mags and clips, I’ll smash your clique.
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| Because of Proof they put the «G"in the alphabet.
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| Smoking weed, drinking henny, remy, in that jimmy
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| Don’t worry if we run out the corner store got plenty. |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song 40 Oz. , by - D12. Song from the album D-12 World, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп