Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 900 Blame A Nigga, artist - Luniz. Album song Operation Stackola, in the genre Поп
Date of issue: 31.12.1994
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Virgin Records America
Song language: English
900 Blame A Nigga |
How can I get blamed for shit |
That a nigga really didn’t even do |
One nigga did the dirt, but the blames on the whole crew |
I feel like O.J. |
and Rodney |
A little mayo, but still don’t be having no happy days like Potsy |
Nigga’s get blamed for every thang |
From robbin you house, to ho stroll’s |
And the tropicana cocaine |
And if the sun turned black |
OR |
Nigga’s getttin (??) like the oldies |
Played the fuck out, we only known for stealin cars and drinkin 40's |
Or showin your whole ass crack on cops |
They quick to do a nigga on the routine stop |
Chopped rock’s, in a nigga possesion, a whole zip |
Blame me cause I’m one of fo' grips |
Now you can have mayo and a gang of triggers |
But that ain’t shit, cause they still going to blame a nigga |
(Chorus plays over REDNECK talking) |
Boy I tell ya Jim, one of those black niggers took |
The battery outta my car last night |
I didn’t see it, but I know those niggers ways |
(Numskull) |
Driving down the block, and what did I see |
A police man trying to gaffle me |
Threw down my rocks, so I wouldn’t get caught |
A high-speed CHASE for fourty-eight blocks |
(Verse 2 — Yukmouth) |
I heard some shit was goin down though |
It might be scanda-lous, on the down low |
Plus I get around ho, like Shock and Mon' |
Walking to the lot, forgot I got the gun |
In the bushes, more mayo then the rest of the pushers |
Tonight a nigga might be readin my Nike’s like Bushwick |
Chronic smoke like chimney, to lit a doobie |
They knew me, let me in free cause I be that Luni |
Higher then the police sky waves off the blue |
I partied two or three hours now I’m sideways in the sukra |
To the hoopsta’s, survival is the be-under |
But I was in it, now five-oh's on my bumper |
Ready to dump the forty outie, and weed baggies |
They had me searchin through my car, for what we have we here |
A queer tryna frame a nigga, but shame on a nigga |
That try to put the blame on a nigga |
(Chorus plays over REDNECK talking) |
Uh, hello, this is 900 blame a nigga? |
Uh, my daughter’s raped, and comin back from |
A Ku Klux Clan meetin, and I know a nigga did it |
(Yukmouth) |
Last night was the night before |
Twenty-four robber’s came knocking at my door |
I ran out, they ran in, trying to blast for my cash |
With ski-masks on they’re chin |
(Verse 3 — Luniz) |
Take a puff from my hamp then bounce |
I’m on a mission for scrilla, vanilla slugs by my zipper |
Playa haters trippin off ho’s it seems that they plot |
Snitch to the cops, and swear that I chopped O’s of cream |
WHO STOLE THE COOKIE OUT THE COOKIE JAR! |
That’s what they mumble |
Now knowin about THE POWER OF NUMSKULL! |
Now I done had it wit all that static |
I’m thinkin I should load my automatic |
And let all these faggots have it |
(Yukmouth) |
One love, it’s cocked backed, and then I bust slugs |
Roastin a motherfucker, so busta always suffer |
Blood in the ghetto, other niggas try to run up |
Wit they gun, and get done from sun down to sun up, punk |
Dead bodies in the trunk, they kept on tellin the |
OPD I was sellin' D, I caught a felony |
As soon as I got out, had to pop out a nigga brains |
I was the wrong nigga to frame |
(REDNECK talking while Chorus plays) |
Boy I wish I could get a job |
But them damn niggers take all the jobs nowadays |
They got affirmative action stuff |
I tell you that guy up in puff, he agreed to that stuff bad |
Them, them niggas are gonna know where it’s, hey… |
(Yukmouth talking) |
Wassup man, you all on my tape and shit |
Talkin that weak shit, get the fuck up outta hear |
(REDNECK) |
Who are you, who are you! |
You nigga’s are tryna kill me! |
(Yukmouth) |
Get yo punk ass up outta here, peckerwood motherfucker |
Jive ass turkey, that’s right |
I stole yo motherfuckin car |
But aye, it’s yo fault |
Yo ass brought us from Africa, bitch |
Aye get yo ass up outta here, you peckerwood motherfucker |
Blast that fool man, blast that fool, get him, get him |
He tryna run, blast that fool, yeah, talkin all that shit |
Pointin the finger and shit, I’m tired of y’all |
Pointin the fingers at motherfuckers mayne |
Y’all done got O.J., Tyson, my potnah 2Pac, Gov |
Man fuck blamin me, I didn’t do it, WHY, fuck that you did it |