Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song We out Chea, artist - DJ Southeastern
Date of issue: 05.03.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
We out Chea |
All the way the dummy way |
All the way, 100 |
Fifty, five-one-slash |
Bitch, we out chea! |
(We out chea!) |
All the way the dummy way |
All the way, 100 |
Fifty, five-one-slash |
Bitch, we out chea! |
(We out chea!) |
All the way the dummy way |
All the way, 100 |
Fifty, five-one-slash |
Fifty, fifty-one fifty, fifty-one fifty, we out chea |
Fifty-one fifty, fifty-one fifty, we out chea |
OK, now ain’t I, ain’t I out chea? |
Five-one, five-oh |
All the way the dummy way |
Fuck with me, die slow |
Sold my first rock at 96, straight off the porch |
Daddy gone, never comin' home |
That’s all I know |
So I’m headed out the do', strapped up, ready to roll |
Dickies is cuffed up, fucked up, off that Henny and X-O |
With that liquor in me, I’ll go do the shit myself |
Fuck the consequences |
Have all you niggas jumpin' fences |
So, you see, I’ve been dumb |
Reppin' where I’m from |
When I drop it niggas come |
Boss man, job done |
After dark it’s Jurassic Park |
Velociraptors tryna eat ya fo' the green leaves |
We all G’s |
Main mane in the grave behind some fuckin' bullshit |
So when it’s time to bust them K’s, I don’t bullshit |
Outta here, dead meat |
Fuck you and your whole street |
I roll with you, you roll with me, that’s it’s supposed to be |
Hook: Lil |
Look, it’s gutter with me |
Yeah |
Ain’t rasslin' or no tusslin' me |
It’s straight bustin' with me |
Look, as a peon, I’ve been known to get it on |
Ran with straight cut-throaters |
Niggas with no hope-a |
The street life is all I know, it’s all I live |
So yo' best bet? |
Respect the kid |
Fifty-one fifty, I mean that |
If you happy, nigga I seen that |
Supply my own smoke, never askin' where that green at |
Now uh-oh, there go that boy Quick |
This nigga here a savage |
He totin' two Glocks under just in case it get drastic |
Head first, fifty-one fifty, ain’t got no mind |
Hopped off the porch and hit a 9, that’s the slangin' iron |
Fifty-one fifty, fifty-one fifty, we out chea like the lines in the street |
100, we do no stuntin' |
What we do? |
We let 'em stomp when it’s beef |
No time for playin' games |
Run with a bunch of killas who certified and well trained |
Bitch, I’m out chea |
All the way the dummy way |
They hustlin', dumpin' in broad day, nigga, play you late |
All the way 100, it’s 99, I cut my time |
It’s E-N-T, it’s 6th Street, at the same time we wise guys |
Fifty-one fifty, shit get wicked in my city |
Pistol grippin in dickies |
Nigga play, nigga get it |
I don’t talk, I’ll walk it out, so you gon' see me fo' you hear me |
Extra Hen' in my system, 'bout to fuck over a nigga |
Bitch, we out chea, in the streets |
Everywhere like burnt CDs |
Barbershop |
Barbeque |
GLRRRRRRRRRRRR (roll your tongue) |
Who gon' ride for you? |
Choppin' fools |
1-by-1 |
2-by-2 |
3-by-3 |
R.I.P |
Rest in PISS |
We bout dat gangsta shit |
Play now, cry later, mane |
Feed you to the gators mane |
Try to send a message, that’s why I got that «Fuck you Haters» chain |
Since 10, I’ve been a beast |
Ain’t hard to find, I’m in the streets |
Pocket monster in the club, murk yo' ass instantly |