| Now you can’t hang around, my crew or my clique
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| Especially if you ain’t about no gangsta shit
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| You can’t hang around, my crew or my clique
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| Especially if you ain’t about no gangsta shit
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| Kirby’s round the corner playin' bones with Russ
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| I’m waitin' for my bitch to get off of the bus
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| She told me she could make it to my house by twelve
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| So we could get it on, just amongst ourselves
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| She came to, I had a blunt to blow
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| After that, I’ma be ready to fuck this ho
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| I ran up in it for an hour or so
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| Put her back in the bus and took a route to the store
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| Picked up some brew for the rest of my crew
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| And a couple of cigars for a blunt or two
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| Headed for the D.J. |
| Way on Teledonna
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| Now this area was all about drama
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| Hoes was sweatin', I had my shades on
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| Ready to put the dick on any bitch that I played on
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| Now what’s the haps with you and your clique?
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| I don’t think you want no more gangsta shit
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| Mo I can roll, I’m just a baller from the South
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| Ready to knock any muthafuckin' pussy out
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| I got bitches on the side wanna ride with nine
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| But don’t understand the way that I kicks the style
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| But I’m a flexor, to riggedy-wrecks-a nigga from the Nolia
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| I’m goin' out everytime when I kick I’m like a solja
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| Niggas don’t understand the way that I flow
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| The fliz-no is slow, so check this out bro
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| Now you can’t hang around, my crew or my clique
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| Especially if you ain’t about no gangsta shit
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| You can’t hang around, my crew or my clique
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| Especially if you ain’t about no gangsta shit
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| I kicks the shit that make them niggas say «ooh»
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| That’ll make them hoes say «Yeah, that must be that nigga Juv»
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| I’m from the, wild side of the city
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| What a pity, I’m wild, like a muthafuckin' crazed Frank Nitty
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| I’m not the old days nigga that’s comin' with the gats
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| Nigga where you at? |
| Nigga where you at? |
| Nigga where you at?
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| Give me a bag of powder, watch me twitch
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| I might go crazy and wanna kill in this bitch
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| I seen a lot of niggas talk shit about me
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| But don’t know a muthafuckin' thing about me
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| So keep my name outta your mouth and you just might just don’t see the Glock
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| POP every time I see your ass on my block
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| Shop close for the hoes, that used to think that Juv would trick
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| But bitch how you feel? |
| 'Cause you ain’t got shit
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| Niggas wanna play these games and don’t know
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| That I am the wickedest one you know bro
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| I’m just a nigga from off the side
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| So what’s up? |
| I’m 'bout to rock in the house, right?
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| Microphone check one two, now what’s the haps?
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| It’s time for me to put my neighborhood on the map
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| I’m from the neighborhood of the wild Magnolia
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| Home of the killas, the trillas, the soljas
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| Droppin' muthafuckas like an everyday habit
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| If I see your fine, sexy bitch, I’ma stab it
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| Comin' from my head, my skin tone is red
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| Ready to put the muthafuckin' black boy to bed
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| I ain’t never was afraid of no war
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| 'Cause where I come from, we snort powder and we roar
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| Now you can’t hang around, my crew or my clique
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| Especially if you ain’t about no gangsta shit
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| You can’t hang around, my crew or my clique
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| Especially if you ain’t about no gangsta shit
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| I’m in the Nolia, lookin' for the Poppers
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| Took me a hit off the blunt, then I spot her
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| Ho that I know, bout twenty years of age
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| A pepper-red bitch with extensions in her head
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| Now she was the type to put you in a plot ball
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| Her last old man done got his head knocked off
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| But fuck I want the pussy so let’s see what she’s about
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| She gave me the phone number and the address to her house
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| I passed by late, she stayed on South Mero
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| Walked in the door with my three eight zero
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| Popped on that ass, got her nothin', I was outty
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| Now she calls me sayin' how she feel about me
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| «Come back to me, Juvenile, I’m beggin' you please»
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| «Won't you just come back to me, Juvenile, I’m beggin' you please»
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| Now, if I was King, just imagine that shit
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| I’d have the Queen back smackin' that bitch
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| Now drop to your knees and kiss, and you tease
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| Of that, hell of a guy Mister J-U-V
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| I want riches, fuck bitches and them hoes
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| No better than a sweater, fella, 'cause I won’t let her
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| Ho blow my head off, and take me off ground
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| Knowin' inside that a bitch could bring me down
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| Juvenile let a ho trap me?
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| That ain’t the hamp, I’m on the map ayo I’m in the house
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| And I’m on the map G
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| Now you can’t hang around, my crew or my clique
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| Especially if you ain’t about no gangsta shit
|
| You can’t hang around, my crew or my clique
|
| Especially if you ain’t about no gangsta shit |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song U Can't C Me , by - Juvenile. Song from the album Being Myself, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп