Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Wanna Play Rough, artist - Dame Grease
Date of issue: 20.10.2016
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Wanna Play Rough |
Verse One: |
Yo, the Lord is my shepard |
The sword is my weapon |
Reward is a blessin', that comes from the struggle |
Shoes been scuffled, blood’s been shed, another Mother loses a son |
'cause where I’m from the young chooses a gun |
Before they choose an education |
But once dead their ain’t no awakenin' |
So like once said, life ain’t for fakin |
Yo, you wit' me when I say duct tape 'em? |
Fuck waitin' |
Got the truck outside, Benz jeep for navigation |
Everything in position, they’d rather be fuckin' wit' Satan |
When I aim I ain’t missin', master of assasination' |
I heard he call himself Esco, drive a Lexo |
Rocks his hat sideways, showin' off his waves with a chipped tooth |
Is this the truth? |
This is what we do, sip a brew |
Wait around his crib until it turns around two AM |
As soon as he walks in the door we slay 'em |
You guys got fat while I was away, so start payin' |
Chorus — Okay, you wanna play rough?! |
(gun shots) (scratching — a thug changes, and love changes) repeat 3X |
Okay yo, we could play rough! |
Verse Two: |
Okay now, drive up to my crib, am I high enough? |
Who these niggas tryin' to hide in their truck |
I ain’t order cable, why in the fuck these niggas |
Ducked in they seat? |
are they lookin' for me? |
But I ain’t do shit, could it be that niggas thought |
I slept like B.I.G. |
and Pac did |
May they rest in peace, but while I’m alive I pop shit |
P-11 Glock spits 17 shot clips |
Put these niggas in boxes, where they Moms and Pops is |
Pull the strap from under the seat |
Back up in the street |
Watch these niggas thats tryin' to watch me, I carefully creep |
Take off my shoes, barefoot nigga poppin' my heat |
Empty every shell in their direction |
Its you, I should’ve guessed it! |
Same niggas that I was connected wit', I know sent you |
Now I’m’a take you off here, you dont know what you got into |
Verse Three: |
Walked in his house, smackin' him up, «what you talkin' about?» |
he said |
Shut-up nigga! |
knocked him in his head with chrome |
Never thought I’d be in his home |
With his wife taped up for my niggas to bone |
Fuckin' with me, you should’ve known |
I’ll have 'em write «stupid nigga» on your tombstone |
What money can do, get you hit for less than a G |
For threatenin' me |
I’m’a do it myself, take you to Hell, this ones for free |
Killin' you niggas with nothin' |
Left him dead, engine runnin' |
You the only I’m makin' sure that gets whats comin' |
Look at your Woman, anal ripped out, its your fault |
They gang banged your bitch out in your face and you saw it |
But before I let you have it I’m searchin' your crib |
For pictures of relatives, addresses to where they live |
Shit like that, incase a nigga wanna strike back |
I’ll be right up in his ass to blow 'em out with the Mac |
Niggas treat you like Fam, and you on it like that? |
Now you gotta lay flat, gettin' eatin' by rats |
Gettin' even’s never wrong, its only right to react |
Eye for an eye, 'cause the sweetest part is payback |
Somebody kncokin', who dat? |
«a cop man», let him in |
And give that mothafucka one under the chin |
Can’t believe this nigga down with the Feds! |
The copped screamed out your government before he dropped dead |
Dont explain, I put the pound on his head |
Blew 'em! |
before that I can’t remember the last time I said… |
Okay, so we gonna play rough! |