Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song We out Chea , by - DJ SoutheasternRelease date: 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 |