Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Nobody Crosses Me, artist - Kingpin Skinny Pimp. Album song King of da Playaz Ball, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.03.1996
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Prophet Entertainment
Song language: English
Nobody Crosses Me |
Any nigga wanna test my nuts must prepare to die |
Bullets they pop, suckers they drop |
My sunroof cracked for the drive-by |
Notice that I’m King of Kings when you nail me to that stick |
Whether I die or whether I live still killers they squashin' shit |
Set slippin' is how you come, I been project boy too long |
I representing O to the G, dedicated to the streets, splittin' domes |
When I blast on yo ass I must empty my clip |
Screamin' out «die motherfucker» |
Point blank range then he hit that dip |
I’m thinkin' of homicide then suicide |
I’m livin' a hard life with gigantic thuggish thoughts |
Let me tell you what my hood is like |
Murderer, burglar, robbers niggas they hangin' and bangin' and swangin' and |
flamin' them AK’s and hay |
When niggas be slippin' we be gankin', maintainin' on that pay Cause you gon' |
be down when you be down |
If you stab me in my back |
You either gon' swim you either gon' drown |
I’m serious mane, when the doors get kicked down |
Nobody can duck |
«What about his mother and kids?» |
nigga I don’t give a fuck! |
I’m thinkin' of plans, I’m thinkin' of plans, I’m thinkin' of plots |
I got some rocks, a sub-zero mask, two clips and a Glock |
Ain’t gon' tolerate no hatred from you monkey-ass clowns |
Smilin' and frontin' and back stabbin', I’mma lay yo busta ass down |
Now stop cryin' son of a bitch, I ain’t shot ya yet |
My automatic *ri-zat-ti-zat-* and left his baby nuts wet |
I’m thinkin' of another smooth plan, see me and this hoe set up a plot |
She been fuckin' this nigga for life, three months that love gon get 'em back |
You better listen because this bitch they act the same all over the world |
Game is played for the paper, never free |
Now she’s walkin' down the stairs |
I’m on the phone, she claimin' this nigga snorin too loud |
It’s time to make my move |
To da crank my bucket and head to the closet, fool she knock him out |
I’m in the back yard, jumpin' over bushes, jumpin' on the porch, |
the door unlocked |
I sneaked through the living room, crawlin' up the steps — I think I’m at the |
stash spot |
The dope was missin', a bitch start screamin, a nigga was never asleep |
I’m bustin' at they ass, where da dope? |
Nobody crosses me |
See I ain’t no fake pimp bitch, I got hoes on the track |
Women dancin' in the shake junt |
Sendin' my money through western union |
I done usin' so many phones, my knuckles rusty |
I’m breakin' and shakin' the cryptic crowds |
They swear to God I’m lucky |
I heard that cocaine was the biggest pimp around town |
Since '76 the game been kind of a switched around |
It’s more motherfuckin' hoes on the track |
These junkies be sellin' they pussy |
These niggas they sellin' that crack |
So what, these bitches wanna bring daddy the cash |
That it just set it to the stack |
Cause I ain’t dependent on yo broke ass |
Many pimps, they die, they lookin' half dead |
Cause they can’t shoot the right game to the bitch heads |
Tr-izz-ick a b-izz-itch will br-izz-eak a b-izz-itch |
Well izz-am the p-izzn-imp well izz-I get r-izzn-ich |
Playa haters, mack invaders, roadie fakers penetrate |
Hatred from they fuckin' heart, nina shots will illustrate |
Suckers in a casket, talkin' about the Skinny Pimp |
? |
got me lookin' for it |
Cross and I’mma leave yo chest damp |
Look at that .45 put to yo face |
Motherfucker I ain’t scared to catch a case |
Gobber, mobber chrome thang |
Im fuck you off in no trace like fake |
We livin' up in the days where the killers don’t give a fuck |
We dumpin' a hollow in yo skull, Memphis niggas tooo buck |
I’m from the side where the killers like to start a riot |
Fuck you up cause you can’t duck, I’m advertisin' homicides |
Ain’t no clan thicker than my clan |
See I got a gang in different states … gotta come with evil plans |
To take you out this gutter I do too, you knew too |
This street mentality bitch-ah, I dare you |
To come into my hood flippin' with no fuckin' scrap |
You slippin' into a drive-by, I’m hittin' that water |
You takin' eternal naps |
Shoot 'em down, shoot you down with my .45 G-L-O-C |
Mean I with this mask to my face |
The bounty hunters cannot stop a fugitive on the run |
Lookin' suspicious, runnin' from choppers |
Drinkin' straight Vodka, keepin' my mobber |
Hangin' with Triple Six, Gimisum robbers |
Imma let my heat cause destruction I ain’t cappin' |
Boom-boom-boom! |
No duckin' I’m doin' a 1−8-7 biatch |