Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Here We Are/Go Killem, artist - Daz Dillinger. Date of issue: 30.04.2001
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Here We Are/Go Killem |
| Psss… yeah… |
| It’s about time served y’all bitch ass niggas |
| Y’knahmsayin? |
| Tired of ya’ll bitch ass niggas everywhere |
| (Yeah nigga, Daz and Kurupt) |
| 187 killin', everyday all day |
| I’m comin out! |
| Niggas you better come strapped with some tactics to get back |
| Or get capped, the back slap, or laid flat |
| Swift as a cheetah when them thangs comin' to greet you in the dark |
| I won’t mislead you when you seein' the sparks |
| Dustin' off brand motherfuckers who start ruckus |
| Can’t touch us, me and my homies reply wit fuckers |
| Me and my dogg’s blast with intentions, leavin' y’all missing in action |
| Bitch ass, sorry ass bastards |
| Heartless, senseless coward I was born to devauer |
| Cuts is ours, for all my real niggas behind bars |
| Scarred for life, from the blade of a knife |
| To get strikes at thirteen for takin' your life |
| Seven tec’s, I earn repect, you chin check the rep — |
| Or die when your bitch ass step |
| I take precaution, stalkin' these streets, flossin' and ballin' |
| Keep your hand on your heat, cause we playin' for keeps |
| Real niggas do real thangs in this gangbang life we lead |
| You can’t hang, nigga die and bleed |
| Murder won’t stop 'til every busta and sucka drop |
| Fuck the cops, they stop me from corruptin' the block |
| Rocks blast the Glocks in the weed spot |
| Stop playa hatin' what we got and clock your own knock |
| Grindin', perfectin', and shinin' the fifty-eight carrots of diamonds |
| Blind ya when we come up behind ya |
| Here we are… (here we are) |
| And there they are… (there they are) |
| Gon' get ya, aiyya, aiyya |
| Gon' get ya, aiyya, aiyya |
| My philosophy’s unheard of, I choreographered the murderer |
| My morals are show no mercy and no sorrow |
| Fuedin' and layin' 'em down, forever ready it’s hereditary |
| Layin' 'em down dead up in the mortuary |
| Families mourn, another life is gone |
| Brandish your torn, forty weeks later a soldier is born |
| Enbalm your neighborhood to let me if you could |
| Be a G a you claim to be, let me know if you could |
| We back shootin' up homes and Cadillac’s |
| Don’t ever ever come back, just to show me where it’s at |
| Off the rack comes the gauge — |
| Buck sprays and AK’s retaliate in a major way |
| We in the land where it’s man for man, clan for clan |
| Simple mistakes — you’ll end up dead (say what?) |
| I ride with Crips and dip and dap for the chips |
| Grip the pistol to your brain, never takin' no shit |
| Whether, Heaven or Hell, I gots to prevail |
| Rather die makin' it happen than to die in a cell |
| Rather load up my hollow-point shells for niggas who snitch and tell |
| Leave they bodies with the maggots and snails |
| C’d up, fatigued up… (Criiip!), always G’d up |
| On a mission for my tuition, I need bucks |
| Big dollars… (why?), I jack niggas cause I gotta |
| My kids got enemies now because of they father |
| Smokin', loaded, and fucked up, I ain’t lucked up |
| On some niggas who try to get bucked |
| In the fashion, the blastin', it’s hard to imagine the cash |
| And known niggas who be actin' like bastards |
| What do I do, but call my niggas and my crew |
| To come do what they do, and put in work on you |
| Semi-automatic cause static |
| Static’s inatic of a gun-play, like everyday, all day |
| You want trouble? |
| HA HA, let’s bring it quick, fast |
| And dash and blast up on they bitch ass |
| Adios as his ass got smoked — |
| He provoked the wrong nigga now his ass is ghost… |
| I smoke a blunt and stick my dick in some cunt (uhh!) |
| Cause to me and my homeboy’s ya’ll just some punks, haha |
| Who really want it? |
| Nigga, come get it |
| Slowly but surely, homie you ain’t never forget it |
| How many times I gotta say stop fuckin' with mine |
| Livin' the life of crime where it’s do or die |
| Y’all niggas don’t really want none of this |
| We the shit… blow your fuckin' crew to bits |
| — 3X w/ variations |
| Yeah, pull up on this nigga right here |
| Jump out, serve his ass |
| Boom, give it, get on the ground! |