Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Cock It, artist - Juvenile. Date of issue: 22.12.2003
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Cock It |
| Uh Huh, Uh Huh |
| Mic check one, two |
| It’s Juvenile coming through |
| Uh Uh c’mon, c’mon |
| Who the man? |
| if I ain’t it nigga can’t claim it |
| I can take a small name and make it famous |
| I reason with no one homie I got fa sho cliental |
| I’m a XL out here in the streets or lyin in jail |
| I’m quick tempored please limit ya words |
| I will send you in a hurry down south with the splurge |
| It’s kind of hard to understand me cause I speak with a slur |
| But my guns speak a language all the people done heard |
| Streets sense gon' keep me in it for a minute |
| You fuckin with a general salute me lieutenant |
| I’m not too particular with lies |
| I look 'em in there eyes say a pray before you die |
| This ain’t about me this about somethin thats spoke |
| You know runnin with a nigga while you cuttin his throat |
| Oh them loose lip bitches get hung from a rope you know |
| Bagged up and throwed off the side of a boat, oh! |
| Cock it, take Beretta then pop it |
| Give me that out ya pocket cause the vest can’t stop it |
| East coast whassup, Down south whassup |
| West coast whassup, Mid West whassup |
| Keep on makin ya laws, I’m a keep breaking them |
| I can move a package in any city I’m stationed in |
| If ya son touchin my shit you better pray for him |
| Bust his head and catch me a flight to where the hatreds been |
| I ain’t the only solider they got alot of these |
| All of these children make me know who dropped alot of seeds |
| I smoke till my eyes shut |
| Stay strapped so if you think about sneakin you better wise up |
| Hit you with the traqualizer let it fill ya head |
| Paralyze you have ya screamin «I can’t feel my legs» |
| Regardless of what a nigga or a bitch done said |
| The shell around ya get poked like eggs |
| I’m from the M-A-G-N-O-L-I-A |
| My bitches gonna listen to what the hell I say |
| You niggas gonna respect it or get out my way |
| Or the coroner gonna happen to do ya autopsy |
| You old niggas on ya last limb |
| Move over let some niggas who really want it come cash in |
| Suppose to get killed for cock blockin in cells |
| Solider bet you can’t get no chronic up in hell |
| Fresh off the porch where the stash spot |
| I’m hungry tryna get the same respect that my Dad got |
| Got the chopper cut the wieght, nice in the stash box |
| Nigga be on paper so himmed up from the bad cops |
| How the hoes be actin hopin for child support |
| I need to snatch me a coat and endorse it with dope |
| I ain’t even gotta speak on it I put my G on it |
| Niggas gon' let us get that whenever we want it |
| Beef is beef whenever the shit occurs |
| If it’s real it’s gon' resolve into metal for sure |
| But hit the right one he ain’t respectin my bad |
| My only satisfaction will be poppin your ass |
| — till end |