Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Dem Boyz, artist - Esham. Album song Repentance, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 17.11.2003
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Reel Life
Song language: English
Dem Boyz |
| This ones for them boys with the drugs in they house |
| This ones for them boys with the slugs in they mouth |
| This ones for them boys with the taps on they phone |
| They know the halfs on they zone, and peelin caps with the chrome |
| This one’s for them boys! |
| (Dirty hoodlums!) |
| This one’s for them boys! |
| (Hustlin!) |
| This one’s for them boys! |
| (Dirty hoodlums!) |
| This one’s for them boys! |
| (Hustlin!) |
| This is for the ones that’s making cheddar, that fetty, all about they hussle |
| Make a Def Jam out in the streets, without Russel |
| What’s so strange is that I came in this game |
| With the 1, 2 «Bang Bang», make your brains hang |
| And it is a thang Bitch, better have my muthafuckin fetty |
| Before I put this mm-mm to your head and make your shit look like spaggetti |
| Y’all ain’t ready, the hatchet slit you like a machete |
| Left hand bust the roscoe, right hand hold the whip steady |
| This ones for the boys from the darkest corners |
| To the streets of Hell, these boys ain’t no foreigners |
| And warrin' is every day, and the cost ain’t soft |
| Even when they miss, you still get a shoulder blown off |
| This ones for the boys who chew hollow tips like gum |
| And wash it down with everclear cause the care ain’t there |
| And these boys be the bad guys, and can’t switch |
| They put a bullet clean through your head and into your bitch |
| This is for them boys up all night, stuffing wax packs with heroin |
| Up on the block straight doing the Aero Flyn |
| Gettin money, everything you wear brand new |
| Pockets stay lumpy like grandma’s stew |
| When you true to the game, the game will be true to you |
| What up though, you’re ghost if I say so |
| Guns and ammo — I buy em buy the caseload |
| Then I get you hit for fifty pesos |
| This ones for this boy, a killjoy |
| Chick toy, shit, boy, I’m sick, boy |
| Click-bang go the 4−4, off go the shell |
| There go the po-po off into Hell |
| Oh well, I’m in motel, Hotel Six |
| And I got your chick on the tip of this dick |
| Now she taking it in, sinking it in, her titties I’m shakin 'em |
| And I don’t know when I’m be done |
| Then I’m a be busting my gun this ones for the boys saying fuck the 5−0 |
| Fuck the 5−0 when it’s all about survival |
| Talkin to my pistol don’t help |
| My shotgun said «blasphemy» until I shot on myself |
| This one’s for the money figures, the go-getters, ice-rockers |
| Twenty-four seven non-stoppers |
| This ones for the pill poppers |
| Eh yo fuck that, this ones for the head-choppers |
| This one’s for the people livin down in them sewer pipes |
| Makin a living off of all that ain’t right |
| And this is for them witches that was tied to stakes |
| And for the killers that have seen me after death shakes |
| And them peddlers on the corner when it’s ice-cold |
| And dead bobies on the side of the road |
| This is for that part of the city that everybody warns about |
| Where throats get torn out |