Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Fight Music, artist - D12. Date of issue: 17.06.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Fight Music |
| Whenever you hear some shit and you can’t refuse it It’s just some shit, for these kids, to trash they rooms with |
| Just refuse whenever they asked to do shit |
| The type of shit that you don’t have to ask who produced it You just know — that’s the new shit |
| The type of shit that causes mass confusion |
| and drastic movement of people actin stupid |
| I come to every club with intention to do harm |
| With a prosthetic arm and smellin like Boone’s Farm |
| Hidin under tables as soon as I hear alarms |
| Paranoid thief that’ll steal from his own moms |
| Connivin Kon, Artis with a bomb |
| Strapped to my stomach screamin, Let’s get it on! |
| A lush that love to drink, drunk drivin a tank |
| Rollin over a bank, cops see me and faint |
| It’s drastic, I’m past my limit of coke |
| I think I’ll up my high by slittin your throat |
| Push your baby carriage into the street, 'til it’s mince meat |
| Your mens been beat the minute I step onto your street |
| This is fight music! |
| You know why my hands are so numb? |
| (No) |
| Cause my grandmother sucked my dick and I didn’t cum (oh) |
| Smacked this whore for talkin crap (bitch) |
| So what if she’s handicapped, the bitch said Bizarre couldn’t rap |
| I fuckin hate you; |
| I’ll take your drawers down and rape you |
| While Dr. Dre videotapes you (hell yeah!) |
| Satan done got me on this song |
| Eatin a hot dog readin the Holy Qu’ran, while I’m on the john |
| Tired of wearin this yellow thong |
| Take it back Sisqo, you know where it belongs (thong th-thong thong) |
| Now here’s a gun, I’ll put it in your palm |
| Now go over there and blow up Dru Hill’s arms |
| Fuck your love songs |
| Just bring who you gon’bring on, who you gon’swing on? |
| I’m King Kong, guns blow you to king-dom come |
| Show you machine gun funk |
| Sixteen m-16's and one pump |
| The snub in my paw, shove it in your jaw |
| Have you runnin out this fuckin club in your drawers |
| We lovin the broads, there’s nothin to applaud |
| But fuck it it’s all good, the hood is up in The Source |
| It’s fight music |
| I’m a nigga that loves scuffles |
| And won’t hesitate to sock you again for swollen knuckles |
| I’m like that, catch a nigga like bear traps |
| Blow his head back right in front of the priest sayin, You hear that? |
| I slap your freak, bump you and won’t speak |
| If you step on my feet, you get drowned in your own drink |
| I suffocated my shrink just for talkin |
| Came back and fucked up his pallbearers and made 'em drop his coffin |
| It’s fight music! |
| These beads I’m swingin is stingin 'em |
| See all these niggaz? |
| When I step in the club, I’m bringin 'em |
| If any nigga lookin too hard, we Rodney King’n 'em |
| Malice green to them and gasolinin 'em with premium |
| Light a cigarette, flick it at 'em or spit it at 'em |
| Hold up a picture of his family and kick it at him |
| Blast while you right hookin, right when your wife’s lookin |
| Fuck fight music, bitch this is losin your life music! |
| If I could capture the rage of today’s youth and bottle it Crush the glass from my bare hands and swallow it Then spit it back in the faces of you racists |
| and hypocrites who think the same shit but don’t say shit |
| You Liberace’s, Versace’s, and you nazis |
| Watch me, cause you thinkin you got me in this hot seat |
| You motherfuckers wanna JUDGE me cause you’re NOT me You’ll never STOP me, I’m TOP speed as you POP me I came to save these new generations of babies |
| from parents who failed to raise 'em cause they’re lazy |
| to grow to praise me I’m makin 'em go crazy |
| That’s how I got this whole nation to embrace me And you fugazi if you think I’ma admit wrong |
| I cripple any hypocritic critic I’m sic’d on And this song is for any kid who gets picked on A sick song to retaliate to, and it’s called. |
| It’s fight music! |