Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Squalie, artist - Juelz Santana. Date of issue: 31.12.2002
Song language: English
Squalie |
| juelz talking: |
| uh-ooo! |
| roll wit me, its santana |
| yea I’d like to welcome yall to the great |
| fuck wit ya boy! |
| freekey! |
| juelz santana |
| now I got more than my swagger back |
| listen here homie |
| Mr. Majaggers 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 happenins' |
| make stacks and stacks and thats a fact man |
| yall cant fuck wit me baby girl would grab my nuts for free |
| comfortably |
| now I got more than 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 sometimes I cant belive my niggas |
| but in all, I’ll give it all just to feed my niggas, eat, dont stop homie breathe my niggas |
| I need yall more than yall ever need me my niggas |
| hook: |
| this is for all my niggas on the block |
| thats pumpin' |
| I think the cops is comin' |
| squalie! |
| all my niggas on the block with somethin' |
| hold it down I think the cops is comin' |
| squalie! |
| yea all my chicks on the strip that switch |
| be easy, I think the cops is comin' |
| squalie! |
| all my ladies that boost for higher |
| Prada, Gucci attire watch whos behind ya! |
| Juelz Santana |
| 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 aint do nothin to Squalie! |
| its pay-back we bustin at Squalie! |
| no more gettin serched, frisked for |
| nothin by Squalie! |
| so sell ya crack, |
| sell ya smack like the dickens premire |
| Juelz Santana Dickens is here yea, |
| so Freekey you rollin’with me, |
| this the theme song homie fuck the police! |
| we back at it, or crack habit is that drastic |
| measures we taken em', u faken we’ll clap at ya peel off on dirt bikes and raptors, |
| squirt pipes at bastards yall cant fuck wit me! |
| hook |
| J.R. Writer |
| Hey ma, its J.R. and L’s |
| it aint hard to tell |
| we them niggas in…(?) |
| wit that hard to sell |
| that aint hard to sell |
| and a gun thatll hit you from far as hell |
| u quick to flash, well whip yo’ass |
| couple shots hit your glass |
| dip-shit your whip will crash |
| I got the sickest past |
| stay skippin’class, pitchin’Hash |
| all day I 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, pushed off dames |
| while you dumb niggas 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! |