Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Who's Next , by - DMX. Release date: 31.12.1999
Song language: English
Who's Next |
| When I creep through |
| Niggaz is see through |
| Just like negligee (Uh!) |
| Verse 1: DMX |
| Ain’t no talkin cause there ain’t much that the dead can say |
| Long as I’m walking I be strappin my dogs (Uh!) (Whoooo-hooo!) |
| Rackin the hogs |
| Desert Eagle packin the morgues (What?) |
| Metal slabs with yellow tags on toes it’s |
| What happens to those that (Uh!) |
| Chose to be foes and (uh-huh!) |
| Bet his man knows |
| But yo, we only get stronger (Uh!) |
| And the amount of time we’re facing is only gettin longer |
| Get the mayor on the horn! |
| (Clue!) |
| (What!) It’s time for shit to go down (Uh!) |
| Strapped for the show down (Uh!) |
| Wet up yo crib, kick the door down |
| Know you schemin' so I gots to get you first |
| Put you right up in a brand new hearse |
| Could be worse (Whoo!) |
| Shoulda seen what I gave this nigga |
| Two vests couldn’t save this nigga (Uh!) |
| The way I laid this nigga |
| Played this nigga |
| But thats what I’m good at (uh-huh!) |
| Layin niggaz out in fightin' pits and fuckin' hoodrats (Ha ha!) |
| Where’s my fuckin' hood at? |
| (Whoo!) |
| Cripple niggas like switches (Uh!) |
| Rip on niggas like bitches (Uh!) |
| Then pour niggas in ditches (Uh!) |
| They ain’t found half the bodies that a nigga caught |
| Or should I say a nigga bought |
| Cause ain’t nothing like getting' paid for, a nigga sport (Aight!) |
| Triple what a nigga thought |
| But thats just how shit be |
| I know that one day they gon' try that shit wit me |
| But just as long as I’m on top of shit |
| You ain’t stoppin shit |
| And ain’t a motherfucker droppin' shit |
| Chorus: DMX |
| If it ain’t ruff it ain’t me (Uhh, c’mon!) |
| If it ain’t ruff it ain’t D (Uh!) |
| M to the X |
| Most y’all niggas is strait sex (What?) (shots) |
| Next?! |
| Chorus |
| Verse 2: DMX |
| Plenty of niggaz know dirty is how I do 'em |
| Put buck shots, from a thirty right through 'em |
| Cause ain’t none of y’all muh’fuckers built for war |
| And I lay down the law (Clueminati!) |
| When I spray down the door |
| Fuck around on my name will be 95-B-64−11 |
| (What?) On a three-and-a-half to seven (C'mon!) |
| When even up north I put niggas to waste |
| So you wanna stop the violence? |
| Get the fuck out my face! |
| Parole before peeps hit the board off |
| Bitches is fuckin but I sleep with the sawed off |
| I got shit to do, rules to break, crews to break |
| Before the news to break, I got dudes to take |
| I don’t joke cause Jokers is cards |
| And cards are what I pull |
| Infra red with the clip full |
| No leash on the pitbull (Ha ha!) |
| That shit is hot like the wax off a candle stick (C'mon!) |
| But how I handle shit |
| Is to dismantle shit (C'mon!) |
| De-de-de-de-de |
| Like Popeye when it’s Spinach time (Clue!) |
| Runnin' through two niggaz like the tape at the finish line |
| What’s your crew, gonna do when I put the pressure on |
| And it hurts, wannabe gangstaz in skirts (Aight!) |
| And the bitches comin' all out them niggaz |
| One false move and their moms’ll read about them niggas |
| And they wives’ll be without them niggas |
| Matter of fact, I’m tired of talkin money |
| Throw your joints up, scrap, bitch (Ha ha!) |
| Chorus 2x |
| Outro: DMX & DJ Clue |
| (DJ Clue!) |
| Niggaz won’t creep in the streets with me |
| (Desert Storm!) |
| Cause you know what fuckin with these streets would be |
| The Professional Part 2! |
| Muthafucker! |
| (Ha ha!) |
| Uhh, huh-uh (My nigga Ray! DMX! My nigga D-Wha!) |
| Pa-pa-pa-pa nigga! |
| (Yo Ruff Ryders! Word up!) |