
Date of issue: 01.06.2003
Song language: English
Gone Be Sum Shit |
Now what you bitches wanna do |
What you bitches wanna do, talk some shit |
Get your ass beat black and fucking blue |
By the new dangerous crew da fucking HeadBussaz |
They turned us down for weed in they hood |
Cause they ain’t trust us, them niggas nothing but bustaz |
They knew we had them skull bussaz, in our back pockets |
Ready to rob and bust them, you hear me |
I gotta dust them, off like some old books |
Cause they fucked around with some old crooks |
I’m talking bout King, I’m talking bout Fiend |
I’m talking bout that nigga Juicy on the fucking scene |
We got these auto’s with them quieter’s twisted at the tip |
For no sounds, nothing but silence when these bitches rip |
And rip a bitch head clean from they gold chain |
Cause these boys had them gassed up like propane |
I bring the pain like ten Taliban’s on a |
And we ain’t quitting until your muthafuckin heart lose, nigga |
If you ain’t from Memphis Tenn., it’s gone be sum shit |
They some wild muthafuckas, who you fucking wit |
If you ain’t from New Orleans, it’s gone be sum shit |
They some crazy muthafuckas, who you fucking wit |
If you ain’t from Chi Town, it’s gone be sum shit |
They some gang banging niggas, who you fucking wit |
If you ain’t from ATL, it’s gone be sum shit |
They some scrappin' muthafuckas, who you fucking wit |
What you know bout the muthafuckin North, North |
In the hood niggas drinking, smoking Newports |
All them old school players bumping Too $hort |
If they got that fire weed, they put in two torts |
And them killing drug dealers, mane they stay in court |
For that slanging or that killing or some child support |
If my nigga go to jail, we gone hold a fort |
Riding around bumping system with the cd distort |
You can call me mister d-o-p-e with the Glock then I p-o-p |
Don’t have my change, it’s a d-e-a-d |
Written on your forehead, don’t fuck me |
We keep artillery, you might can’t see |
Hiding in the bushes or a scope in the tree |
So don’t be playing with that nigga Juicy |
They might find your body somewhere overseas |
If you ain’t from Houston, Texas, it’s gone to be sum shit |
They some syrup shipping niggas, who you fucking wit |
If you ain’t from Mississippi, it’s gone be sum shit |
They some rope hanging niggas, who you fucking wit |
If you ain’t from Alabama, it’s gone be sum shit |
They some head busting niggas, who you fucking wit |
If you ain’t from Cashville, it’s gone be sum shit |
They some robbing muthafuckas, who you fucking wit |
Hands down, this for them scams |
And that are saying by the pound |
Tilt the scale, we just playing |
Laying they ass in the ground |
Gram baggers, coke handlers and lb movers |
Yeah man, pack your shit |
Cause I can see right through ya |
To these bustaz, drug smugglers |
That’s under the world |
All for the love of the girl |
Fuck up my nadir |
We swirl, quick dust |
Making off with the furl |
You step on it three times |
And do your thang on the world |
Uh huh only talking what I used to |
Y’all do what you do |
Highly grow one seven |
And we messing with that voodoo |
Got colors yellow down to the doo doo |
You wouldn’t short, we could moved you |
Stick you like some glue too |
Serve your ass like the lunch line |
Point blank you want something of mine |
On the block nothing to find, slide to the alley |
Don’t need the work badly |
But fill prescriptions gladly, you heard me |
If you ain’t from Arkansas, it’s gone be sum shit |
They some kidnapping niggas, who you fucking wit |
If you ain’t from Dallas, Texas, it’s gone be sum shit |
They some Mexican niggas, who you fucking wit |
If you ain’t from Miami, it’s gone be sum shit |
They some dope pushing niggas, who you fucking wit |
If you ain’t from St. Louis, it’s gone be sum shit |
They some pimp juice drankers, who you fucking wit |
Name | Year |
---|---|
U See We Poe (Screwed) | 2003 |
Crown Me | 2003 |
Where They Hang | 2003 |
U See We Poe | 2003 |
Head Bussaz | 2003 |
Ruffest Niggaz Out | 2003 |
Smoke If U Got It | 2003 |
That's How It Happen To'm | 2003 |