Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song H.C.P. , by - Frayser Boy. Release date: 01.03.2004
Song language: English
H.C.P. |
| Do you hear me it’s goin down |
| Yhe niggas who’s sellin for real |
| Ya boys hurtin out there man |
| I see your sound scans we killin you baby |
| And we gon keep bringing this pain |
| And this motherfuckin bump in your motherfuckin speakers |
| See I’m the number one killa for these bitch ass niggas |
| Got guns got rope for a bitch ass nigga |
| Plastic bags, duck tape for a bitch ass nigga |
| Stolen cars, sellin hoes for a bitch ass nigga |
| S K’s, double clips for a bitch ass nigga |
| 40 cal. |
| on the hip for a bitch ass nigga |
| Ridin Benz’s shootin at you old bitch ass nigga |
| Hypnotize we allergic to a bitch ass nigga |
| Niggas wanna talk shit you a kid to me |
| I’ll fuck you up, real dog, its some killas with me |
| In the end you won’t see me, just wait for my calls |
| Ill ride by shoot your momma’s house up and all |
| And leave a motherfucker bleedin on the carpet |
| Walk right up to your bedroom window and don’t stop it |
| Nigga you started, I won’t when I brought you back |
| Momma dead in the Lexus, when you look back |
| Hold up my nigga, this is danger you is facing |
| I’ma crank the fuckin chain saw and cut you like Jason |
| Ain’t wastin no time, I’ma go on head and let my Smith & Wesson |
| Gone shine my nigga, yall be hatin |
| Ain’t no hatin on me dog |
| Ima leave you layin in the motherfuckin street dog |
| Now catch this heat yall, unlock it and release yall |
| I’m just tryin to keep some mutherfuckin peace dog |
| Yall testin me |
| People always asking 'bout Project Pat |
| Did he get ten years or did his time go flat? |
| Well Ima tell you like this, its a baller battle |
| Try to prosecute a nigga, probably taller than Shaq |
| Me and my brother been down, since the days a rap |
| Hangin out Cypress Garden tryin to sell the crack |
| Can’t no money or no bitch can relate to that |
| Through he good and the bad ima have his back |
| So ima tell you young niggas in the streets today |
| That be standing on the block, smoke chokin that hay |
| The Police, Prosecutors are the enemies |
| Dont get caught up in that cross yo decsion you make |
| If I could turn back the hands of time, I would |
| And tell my big brother the gun ain’t no good |
| He got one strike, a felon, that stood |
| And in front the jury he said: (?) |
| Its the heavyweight Championship of rap |
| I hope you did all your sit ups and ran your laps |
| Cause I’m ready for the whole damn twelve round battle |
| Throw a jab left, hook right, to the mouth |
| And I don’t think your boys gonna help you this time |
| Cause you done fucked around with the wrong damn kind |
| Got get up on my grind, gotta box made of pine |
| Got a nine to your spine, yo I gotta get mine |
| With that in mind, yo for war, I am highly trained |
| Insane mane, and I gotta very good aim |
| So bring yo bandaids and your pain killers |
| We four killer type of niggas |
| Best believe we keepin you injured |
| Even worse then you had pictured |
| So get buck if you really think you want to |
| Best believe it’s gonna come back and haunt you |
| Calls it quits when you talk cause you spoke my name |
| Gotta switch when you walk, lookin like you a dame |
| Lil Wyte, yeah I rocked it when I entered the game |
| Cause Ima hussler on my bumpin for my fortune and fame |
| And its a blessin, not a question, being part of this Camp |
| Learn a lessin from this blessin you can’t fuck with this Fam' |
| Youll come up missin when you glisten your lil wrist I’m not dissin |
| Until the center of attention, and your momma you listenin |
| And I’m the one bringing thunder to this sky you wonder |
| Fuck around wit a mugger and Ill then make you wonder |
| What happened to this little craker it was just marijuana |
| His shoes just got a little bigger, I just gonna warn you |
| That he was creepin from the slab, where the gat is packed |
| Pull a Cop killer bullets that’ll pierce your back |
| I tried to save your soul and plus state the facts |
| But still bitch made motherfucker’s get laid flat |
| Muthafucker cock sucker you don’t want none of this |
| Bitch pull a trigger tell a nigga fuckin wit this shit |
| HCP best believe, bring the motherfuckin pain |
| Clickin on you, hittin on you, we ain’t playin no games |
| Fuck you off, we the boss, got the city on lock |
| Glock my side, time of ride, Got the sawed bitch cocked |
| Wit a nigga makin moves, in this fuckin rap shit |
| Trigger pull it, get a bullet, cause you know I’m strapped bitch |
| Know a bunch of niggas some real, some fake, some hate, Some trake |
| So I get them bitches out the way |
| Dont you test, be my guess, We gone bust the steal |
| Nigga one less, shoot less, tone to the head feel |
| Nigga what you wanna do dog |
| Bring the shit to the fan |
| Every stressin, got you goin down like quick sand |
| Frayser Boy, Rep of course, find me in the fuckin Bay |
| Slangin work, doin dirt, quickin wit the AK |
| Pass the gat and lets ride |
| Lord is in your house best go hide |
| Crunchy gon smack you cross the head wit the Tone |
| Juicy the type nigga you best leave lone |
| Paul ain’t gone talk at all he gon blast |
| Fuckin wit this click you bitch you won’t last |
| Much love to my nigga Pat and thats real |
| Lil Wyte reppin Bay with me don’t get killed |