Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Down N H-Town (Screwed) , by - H.A.W.K.Release date: 08.03.2005
Song language: English
Down N H-Town (Screwed) |
| God damn it let’s do it E, what ha-ha |
| The motherfucking young Don, H-A-W-K |
| Day one niggas, ain’t that right Sensei |
| Corleone (Corleone) ha-ha, Screwed Up Click |
| C.M.G. |
| ha, if it’s up to me it is |
| Down in H-Town, the realest gon stand out |
| From the city of no pity, the gritty you get shot |
| I’m the big boss the young Don, however you want it |
| And them six figgas with bitches, I done had that moment |
| I get my crush on my rush on, I love this game |
| Make your mouth taste like shit, when you mention my name |
| Cause I’m adding and subtracting, looking over distractions |
| Y’all struggling everyday mayn, we chilling and relaxing |
| They asking for the best, so I’m letting 'em see the best |
| In my Bentley top down, with a vest on my chest |
| I’m smoking weed by the barrels, Iceberg apperals |
| Niggas know my songs, like they Christmas carols |
| If it wasn’t for the ice, the streets’ll get burned |
| Why the hell I ain’t balling, cause it ain’t your turn |
| You can’t see me can’t be me, don’t make me have to show ya |
| Covered in ice, call me Rocky Balboa nigga |
| Down in H-Town, the realest gon stand out |
| If it wasn’t for the ice, the streets’d be hot |
| Count six factors, crushing all you actors |
| On the Southside, we ain’t scared of no jackers |
| Down in H-Town, chit-chatters get the gatling |
| Baby you duck face, when this ccalicostart rattling |
| Nigga you know me, gun-ho brick feeter |
| Intercept your funds and ones, H-Town block bleeder |
| Enter the do' on swoll, in a all black Range Rover |
| Mobbing like a steam roller, with a cash bag on my shoulder |
| Don’t get caught in the clutch, without a pop in your drawas |
| Be slipping and dipping, and find a chopper to your jaws |
| H-Town's my home, and bar no jacker and his mama |
| Load it up for the drama, 4−4's pause you like a camma |
| Hell-a heat’s a must, or get your damn wig touched |
| Mess around and get crunched, or find your baby mama fucked |
| We keep the streets congested, Mickey Mouse block prince |
| Flooded in cloud dust, acting like the U.S. Mint |
| Heaven sent niggas, grave diggas for figgas |
| And send shivers to you jiggas, unloading triggas cause uh we |
| I keep my game face on, when I’m punching the clock |
| Trying to climb to the top man, it just don’t stop |
| Wanna dip in the pot, keep a whipping for spot |
| Got a gator for a Houpe', so I don’t flip it a lot |
| Keep about a half a brick, distribute it out |
| If niggas don’t pay back, then niggas get shot |
| On my block, we play chess with techs |
| And if the price is right, we’ll twist ya neck |
| Cats get they wig cracked, for disrespect |
| Plus a slug in your thigh, with a hole in your sweats |
| I’m that nigga on your trail, when you rolling a Lac |
| Bout two cars behind, on the 1100 stretch |
| Running you down, catch up I’m gunning you down |
| By this time next week, you’ll be under the ground |
| That’s what you chumps get, for running in mine |
| Fuck around and get one in your spine, I ain’t lying |
| Crown the king, the champ has entered the ring |
| Get under my wing, better duck when I swing |
| First string, clicks please like a trained Marine |
| Wolverine, scare niggas like Halloween |
| I’m underrated, easily agitated |
| Aggravated, my mouthpiece contaminated |
| Educated, vocabulary complicated |
| And the lyrics that I spit, are sprinkled and saturated |
| Most niggas hate it, cause they ain’t the chosen |
| In H-Town, niggas neck and wrist are frozen |
| Ask your stolen, cause we the realest no doubt |
| And the ice on my piece, it need to thaws out |
| I brought the raw out, cause I ain’t scared of no jackers |
| And the heat that I pack, hit harder than linebackers |
| Call the dispatcher, cause niggas gon bleed |
| If Ke' is Balboa, then I’m Apollo Creed nigga what |