| The Professional part two
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| Puttin’it down for you fake ass DJ’s and shit like that
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| Straight outta Q.B. |
| all the way around the fuckin’world
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| Black Frank Sinatra on yo’ass,
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| Q.B. |
| Braveheart nigga…
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| Was classified as the bastard who died
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| rumors say I came back alive with an axe
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| and attacked niggas actin’like Nas
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| my passion is to capitalize
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| come through my hood you get jacked for your ride
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| catch you from the passengers side
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| my words turn the sea red
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| like the eyes of a weed head
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| ya’ll peep my led then hide like Easter eggs
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| I ride 'till the beef is dead, caskets dropped
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| your soul go further up than astronauts
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| I talk it and live it ya’ll weak dudes should offer forgiveness
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| 'cause frontin’like you ill gets yourself torchered by killers
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| in Newyork I’m the realest
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| predicted by fortune tellers
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| sick with the talkin’methods
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| AK’s, Berettas
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| my whole team is Steelers like Jerome Bettis
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| rammin’niggas like St. Louis, we dough getters
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| and ya’ll niggas is losers, nothin’fuckin’with us nothin’but Bravehearts gon’hustle wit’us
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| Ugh!
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| When ya’ll niggas fall
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| and start makin'800 collect call commercials like Arsenio Hall
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| I’m on times square on New Years with Dick Clark droppin’the ball
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| with Kool and the Gang, doin’my thing
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| princess cut chains
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| I bend bitches like bike frames
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| my tight game will make Hilary leave Bill quick as lightning
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| I’ll have her wearin’tight jeans
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| givin’nice brains in a white Range
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| pullin’up to club life, turned her to a thug life dame
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| I’m sayin', you rollin’with Nastradamus
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| we flowin’to St. Thomas
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| jewelry box full of stones so I can change diamonds
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| matchin’masterpieces on black sandy beaches
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| even the paparazzi tries to peep us disguised with dark shades and fake beards
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| a lucky photographer noticed Tyra Banks here
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| but I showed the tabloids bogus passports
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| I told 'em back off before I flip like Castor Troy.
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| Live from the Bridge, cliques stay high from the iz'
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| wear the most popular shit, niggas knockin’my shit
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| Denali’s, fat designed rims, 2000 S Benz
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| watchin’ESPN with two dime lesbians
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| I hit it of course, I did it to floss
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| the last Don, doin’hits like Pepe and Cross
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| Esco, cash long, niggas think I’m Blacula
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| 'cause I’m in a castle with a bitch cold waxin’her
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| I leave my teeth marks in hoes, scoop 'em like a spatula
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| pass 'em to my peoples and party like a Bachelor
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| 'till I meet a gangsta bitch, give her banks to hit
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| in return all she wants to do is drink the dick
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| Fuck street clothes, we thug it out in Tuxedos
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| stomp niggas with hard bottoms in casinos
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| a Hundred Bravehearts vest’up, nigga reload
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| we keep low, Hundred Thousand bank ceelo |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Live From the Bridge , by - DJ Clue. Song from the album The Professional 2, in the genre R&B