Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Pet Semetary, artist - DJ Quik. Album song The Midnight Life, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 13.10.2014
Record label: mad science
Song language: English
Pet Semetary |
Man Quik, what they talkin' 'bout? |
Man they talkin' 'bout R&B music and Gangsta Rap is dead |
What?! |
Damn |
Aye, we need to go bury both of them muthafuckaz in the pet semetary |
Take them to Compton and Watts then |
I hit the liquor depot, on Crenshaw |
Where all the working class G’s go |
Around the corner from Greg house |
On the next block |
Knocking something down |
Cause South Central got the best cock |
And the flyest bitches live in ran down spots |
That’s why them niggas be Piruin' and Crippin' |
Tryin' to protect that ghetto pussy they hittin' |
And you know what you goin' get when you buy you a Quik beat |
And you know what’s goin' happen your bitches and Quik meet |
And I know that she goin' kiss and tell |
She can’t keep it quiet, can’t help it when the dick is swell |
Have to admit it |
It’s just good |
She’s gotta laugh |
Like a parent, I put a whoopin' on her bottom half |
I’m a player from the Himalayas |
Niggas don’t agree, then them niggas' haters |
I’m just tryin' to be the R&B savior with the instrumental |
Or goin' down like JFK in a Continental |
The most underrated, so mothafu*kin' hated |
Anything I do for music is never celebrated |
Ya’ll killin' the game like pesticides |
But, DJ Quik is unpasteurized |
My music is flawless, my lyrics is lawless |
Your hood wouldn’t be eatin' |
I’m the reason for all this |
Ya’ll tryin' say I got my jaw broke in Compton |
What kind of fake gangsta movies ya’ll be watchin' |
That’s some cowboy sh*t, this some now boy sh*t |
When them rounds hit your car, that’s as loud as it’s goin' get |
Handle my lightweight, get him embalmed |
So don’t fu*k with the great |
You’re much safer on skates |
On thin ice |
With lead plates |
I’m 'bout to reboot, go in and recoup, come through and shoot, make 'em scatter |
like shoooop |
So all that don’t like me, you can suck a dick or somethin' |
Turn over on your stomach, take a dildo 'til you vomit |
I know you niggas crampin', I know the real you |
You keep fu*kin' with me, and I’m goin' kill you |
Now what they want to go and cancel Arsenio Hall for |
Now we got no place to kick it, That’s so uncalled for |
I’m a bad motherfu*ker, cause my Glock says so |
But my wallet says Gucci, I’m a fly killer yo |
Jewels on your ass, pullin' tools on your ass |
Recite a scripture before I put these on your ass |
I’m a |
Put that in perspective, it’s about a half oz of the OG |
Gettin' low key |
Rollin' more trees than a hatchback |
Chillin' like it’s '79 |
My lyrics so wicked, nigga, go and rewind |
So, one more time, I’m from the world’s most dangerous city |
Back on the scene with no cracks on my screen |
I’m like an addict gettin' back on that thing |
If R&B is dead, nigga, Rest In Peace |
But I’m still goin' write the stuff that make the stress release, Preach |