Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song I Know The Rules, artist - Hussein Fatal.
Date of issue: 23.03.1998
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
I Know The Rules |
Verse one |
I blowem over wit the club scene |
Try don, for my nine thousand thugs |
In the clubs, that love green, one step |
Behind hussin, dogs the don, me and im Well bomb on ya kind, like vietnam |
Against all odds, get cha benz or rocks |
Me and kada, go against all fog |
Dog from jeerz, infotrate all herds |
My last words, who gone blast and serve |
They told me never say never, but I never stay alive |
Hold me, look in my eyes, say Im never gonna die |
Blast pass, ya half ass, staff like casses clay |
Pass the tray, pound gripped wit the satin |
Pistol packin fresh out of jail, I aint goin back |
Release me to the care, of my heartless strap |
Hung over from hennessy, wit a menace in tennessee |
To creep like, burglars heraldin all you suckas in the industry |
I know the rules, you all tryin to changeem |
Cuz, you a star, wit ya video models you be frontin |
At the bar, me and my thuggs in back, sippin yack |
Relax, tat it down, jus dyin to go out wit macks |
I know the rules, you all tryin to changeem |
Cuz, you a star, wit ya video hoes you be frontin |
At the bar, me and my thuggs in back, sippin yack |
Relax, tat it down, jus dyin to go out wit macks |
Verse two |
It gets hectic yall, switch the rules |
Get cha tools, my motor for runnin down cuz |
Ya bitch inproved, reelected as any, as respected |
Outlaw glocks, got it locked, wit all these blocks connected |
From the east to the west, back home wit tha vest |
Seen it all and still ball, a dog you cant impress |
Cores ya soul, wit this gold mic molest |
When I blowem aint nothin less, drinkin in front of? |
Dont get prayed over and laid, picked from bein pounded |
Tha 41. wit the quick flip speed rounded, clothes you identify |
Bitch made niggaz, I got a point |
Im out ta minimize, down goes ya squad and ya c.e.o, to Step in the streets, steadily infectin ya crew |
He betta act, or get smacked, wit the ten mack two |
Verse three |
Secerts of war, we bust if we must plus |
And handle business, when you jealous playas |
Fuck wit us, turn the party out |
Soon as they whip the lime beocardy out |
Its all we out, been up all night, when the guards be out |
Call me out, picture perfect life, when I live it Run ya part of town like emmitt, only five minutes in it Militant minded, combined wit a sentence |
All you fake thug niggas, ya crimes aint constant |
Even po-nine, they give me mine from a distant |
My chain dangle, hold the henny on a strange angle |
Aim and bang you, who the fuck you tryin run ya game to Its crunch time, Im servinem when its lunch time |
Give me mines, stealin ya hoe, and Ill throw just one rhyme |
Yall niggas squealin, my thuggs is still dealin |
Got niggas hittin the ceilin, on them fiffty story buildings |
Clack back the strap, give me that wit the equipment |
To all my thuggs, all around the muthafuckin county nation |
World wide, keep on sittin in the back, wit that yack |
Keepin it real, yall know who it go dowwnnnnnnn |
Fatal dog once again, for my outlaw niggas |
Keep it comin, none muthafuckin stop |
Kadafi rest in peace, my nigga pac rest in peace |