| Yeah, what up?
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| New York City, what up?
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| This your boy, to the Dash
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| S.P., Double R
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| Hell and Back
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| Styles straight out the penn
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| You don’t like my shit you could bite my dick
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| I got a case, I’ma fight my shit
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| I got a blunt, I’ma light my shit
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| I’ma chain smoke with cocaine sellers
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| Stick up kid took the game over
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| Niggas hate death, still gotta break necks
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| I’m at the dealer coppin shit they ain’t make yet
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| You think you’re nigga happy, I’m just trigger happy
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| Phone ring a lot, niggas throwin figgas at me
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| I got major plans, you get in the way
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| And your throat is the place where my banger lands
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| You don’t wanna anger me, upset me or startle me
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| You don’t want a part of me, I’m goin for the arteries
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| And I’m a colt-45 user, G-Host to the game of death
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| You about to die loser
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| This is Holiday and Dash-On
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| We burn a whole fuckin house down so I don’t need a mask on
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| You don’t respect my flow you gon respect my gangsta
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| Or get stabbed with this motherfuckin banger
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| Tell 'em P
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| You don’t like my shit you could bite my dick
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| I got a case I’ma fight my shit
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| This for the streets
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| Nigga don’t think cause you hot today you can’t be in the fridge tomorrow
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| If you a family man I’ll send you back your kids in a jar
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| You bought your soldiers, nigga I was raised with mine
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| I got three kids, four, five, but I raise my nine
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| I’ll have yall niggas missin your moms
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| Then let you find her wearin long sleeves but missin her arms
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| And ain’t nothin for me to twist ya wig
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| All I gotta do is puff some weed then listen to B.I.G
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| Then come back and level the city
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| I got my money up, my band is thirty, my bezzle is fifty
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| My vest weigh fifteen, bannana hold sixty
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| So I can run slow and hit you up swiftly
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| Extort rappers, they break me down half of their check
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| I keep a banger that’ll break down half of your neck
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| I done been through hell and back, jail and bail me back
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| Drag and S.P.'ll blow off half of your chest
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| It’s like a kodak moment come capture this
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| How I motherfuckin fracture shit, yall niggas talkin blaphemis
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| Motherfuckers we make classic shit, matter fact I’ll mash ya shit
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| Yall niggas like potatoes to me
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| And I might be high but you look good with a halo to me
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| And I ain’t got a problem wit a problem
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| Fuck 'em cause I know he gon die with a nine in his noggin
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| Yeah, Drag back with the Ghost
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| You know what that means, more vests and a lot more toast
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| I’m a lot older plus a lot more violent
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| Tip of my guns covered, it’s a lot more silent
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| My niggas pop off off imposts
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| Murder ya kinfolks and we ain’t even fuckin start wildin
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| So be cautious nigga or be in the coffin nigga
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| Cause we’ll bring it to the hardest or the softest nigga |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Respect My Gangsta , by - Drag-On. Song from the album Hell And Back, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп