Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Pyrex Shakin' , by - Lil Keke. Release date: 11.02.2002
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Pyrex Shakin' |
| Lil' Keke the Don, Lil' C the Underboss |
| C.M.G. |
| fa sho |
| Hit licks for heavy bricks, I get it 14 plain |
| Coming from out of town, it’s gon be 19 a thang |
| Rock for rock, zone for zone |
| Block for block, getting it on till the whole thang gone |
| I’m a rap star, but I got love for the do |
| Going hard with the snow, till it ain’t no mo' |
| Cash flow, I keep it cracking and stay stacking |
| Distribute these goods, and try to ease away from jacking |
| My neighborhood, it rock like heavy metal |
| We raised that way, so you can play it on the ghetto |
| I got that work nigga, but I ain’t Beatrice |
| Keep seventeen bricks, in the pissy mattress |
| H-Town H-Town, the city of dope |
| Got the shit channeled, with the chickens under the boat |
| Don’t get me wrong, some fly and some float |
| My nigga in Rico, from the Gulf of Mexico |
| To the fat sack of do-do, that me and Ke' smoke |
| I’m the quarterback, my receiver wide open |
| For a pass, got the police on D |
| But shit knowing me, I’ma throw a T. D |
| I’m in the kitchen, with the pyrex shaking |
| I’m bout my game, ain’t got time for the faking |
| I might be rapping, but I’m still brick breaking |
| Cause ain’t no limit, to this money I be making |
| I’m in the kitchen, with the pyrex shaking |
| I’m bout my game, ain’t got time for the faking |
| I might be rapping, but I’m still cake baking |
| Cause ain’t no limit, to this money I be making |
| You know the streets end up, and I just can’t let up |
| Niggas falling out of line, man they must catch up |
| Cause the limo’s, jacuzzi’s and presidential suites |
| All that pretty shit, can’t keep my hands out the streets |
| I do it dirty, the type of work that get a nigga thirty |
| Birds that get the worm, are the ones up early |
| It’s a hard job, trying to survive the mob |
| Staying in the limelight, without a playa getting robbed |
| I got a brick hanging, and it’s wrapped like a gift |
| With a poisonous smell, that the dogs can’t sniff |
| Airplanes and trains, mics and cocaine |
| It’s twenty for a show, twenty for a thang |
| Rapping is beautiful, it got a young nigga shining |
| But some’ing in my blood, that just keep a nigga grinding |
| I get’s paid, on a regular basis |
| So many faces, so many places what |
| It ain’t no limit to this money, I’m telling you mayn the game funny |
| Niggas wasn’t with it, till you mention big face hundreds |
| Get the bricks, load em in the train |
| Load em in the submarine, load em in the plane |
| It’s in the game, like EA Sports |
| Slip and get hit, with bullets of all sorts |
| You don’t wanna play around, with me do ya |
| Hollow tips shred right through ya, treat you like I never knew ya |
| Behind my work |
| And I’m always one deep when I do my dirt, the truth hurt |
| It hit you like a boomerang, and come back |
| Like dope fiends, digging for hard crack |
| Get your mind right, 'fore you fuck with mine |
| 24/7 3−65, I’ma shine |
| Ice gon blind, don’t make a mistake dummy |
| And I’ll do whatever it take, to make money for real |