Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Squalie (Skit) , by - Juelz Santana. Release date: 31.12.2002
Song language: English
Squalie (Skit) |
| now I got more than my swagger back |
| listen here homie |
| Mr. Mick Jaggers back (uh-oo) |
| young Zab of rap |
| only difference is this Judah |
| will shoot ya, then get back to rappin' |
| traffin' crack threw half and Hampton |
| make stacks and stacks and thats a fact man |
| y’all cant fuck wit me |
| baby girl I drag my nuts for free |
| comfortably |
| and ya know I got my pimpin together |
| got my game, got my cain, got my limpin' |
| together, shit bitch you better get your |
| switchin' together cuz this back-hand |
| will get you together, hope you know that |
| and sometime I cant belive my niggaz |
| still in all, I’ll give it all just to feed my |
| niggaz, eat, dont stop homie breathe my niggaz |
| I need y’all more than y’all ever need me my niggaz |
| this is for all my niggaz on the block thats pumpin' |
| I think the cops is comin' - Squalie! |
| all my homies on the block with somethin' |
| hold it down I think the cops is comin' - Squalie! |
| for all my chicks on the strip that switch |
| be easy, I think the cops is comin' - Squalie! |
| all my ladies who boost for higher |
| Prada, Gucci attire watch whos behind ya! |
| Squalie |
| Yo we livin' the life of |
| loca-vida, coke and cheever |
| drive-by blow smoke on the policia |
| like fuck em! |
| I got no love for em |
| Squalie! |
| but I’m tired of runnin' from |
| Squalie! |
| duckin' from Squalie! |
| shit and we ain’t do nothin to Squalie! |
| its pay-back we buckin at Squalie! |
| no more gettin searched, frisked for |
| nothin by Squalie! |
| Hey so sell ya pack |
| sell ya crack like when dickens was near |
| Juelz Santana Dickens is here yea |
| Yea so Zeke is ya rollin' with me |
| this the theme song homie fuck the police! |
| we back at it, our crack habit is that drastic |
| measures we taken em', maken we’ll clap at ya |
| peel off on dirt bikes and raptors |
| squirt pipes at bastards y’all cant fuck wit me! |
| Hey ma, its J.R. and L’s |
| it ain’t hard to tell |
| we da niggaz in we da niggaz in Maury and car alarm da fell wit that hard to |
| sell |
| that ain’t hard to sell |
| and a gun that’ll hit you from far as hell |
| u quick to flash, we’ll whip yo' ass |
| couple shots hit your glass |
| Dip-shit ya whip will crash |
| I got the sickest past |
| stay skippin' class, pitchin' Hash |
| all day, stood there |
| flippin' halves |
| when I heard, Squalie! |
| I dished and dashed |
| ditched the hash |
| park, neutral, first gear |
| hit the gas, now we rich with cash |
| and when I hear Squalie! |
| I sit and laugh, dawg you kiss his ass |
| cooked more caine, push off dames |
| while you dumb niggaz stand there |
| and look all lame |
| I done popped and took off chains |
| now Ivory dump ice on me like my team |
| won a football game! |