| Back in December, or was it November?
|
| It’s kind of shady, I can vaguely remember
|
| I was at the Peppermill, popping at the bartender
|
| He made me a drink called uh, Bodybender
|
| That’s when a smurf pulled on my shirt
|
| Said (Hey, get off my girl, dog, before you get hurt)
|
| I said, «Hold on, I don’t know what you think
|
| You better back the fuck up and let me order my drink»
|
| He backed the fuck up and did more than you think
|
| He had a AP, not a nine, but it’s sort of the same
|
| So now it’s one lonely R-o-m-p
|
| I’m all by myself without nobody
|
| Slightly noided, sense death, can I avoid it?
|
| Somebody slammed the do' on the way comin from the toilet
|
| He looked back, then I pulled out my strap
|
| Slapped him it twice but uh, I should’ve clapped
|
| Cause this other goon nigga started wildin
|
| I pulled out my faulty phone and started dialin
|
| Told my niggas to come on the double
|
| They finna put a nigga on the gong show, bust his bubble
|
| He said yeah, he know he comin
|
| «But damn my nigga, you always into somethin»
|
| Recently, June 4th, released from jail
|
| And 'bout to hit the streets like a beast from hell
|
| It’s that nigga y’all done heard about, young J. Diggs
|
| Love to play the game and I play big
|
| I see suckers havin money and I gots to have some
|
| You in the double R, I gots to have one
|
| I’m all up in his backdo' like knock-knock-knock
|
| The nigga moved too fast, so I pop-pop-popped
|
| Should’ve stood still, there would be no firing
|
| But it’s a little late, all I’m hearin is sirens
|
| So now I’m in the wind like leaves on trees
|
| I’m in the crowd tryin to blend like d’s on v’s
|
| I’m sweatin bullets, I’m an ex-con out on parole
|
| What the fuck was I thinkin, I’m out of control
|
| I’m at the Romp House and I’m huffin and puffin
|
| My niggas lookin at me crazy cause I’m always into somethin
|
| Yo, we fuck with heavy guns, fuck around and pump heavy slugs
|
| We drinkin Rémy doin heavy drugs
|
| Nigga, we stay explosive, it’s about a quarter to six
|
| Step out the limousine, my wallet’s 'bout a quarter inch thick
|
| Nigga, we shittin on em, I pop the three-piece, savage
|
| So many carats up in my ice I could choke a rabbit
|
| Bitches screamin for me but all it took was one dirty look
|
| We hit that nigga with that murder book
|
| Nigga tried to step fast, hit him in the face with a Moët glass
|
| Spilled drink on his bitch, the whole club hit the do' fast
|
| Trunks is poppin, niggas wingin in the parking lot
|
| We keep it gangsta with them choppers out
|
| S-l double, I smell trouble, boy, it’s nothin
|
| Keep your peace, muthafucka, I’m always into somethin
|
| Let me tell you somethin 'bout a nigga like me
|
| Never should’ve been let out the penitentiary
|
| Cause niggas done switched up, I guess they got it mixed up
|
| Now I’m a dust the heater off my shelf and leave em bitched up
|
| Like this one nigga actin like a dumb nigga
|
| S-in on his chest with no vest, yeah, he a dumb nigga
|
| Ain’t no love in this thug shit
|
| Now he at the club tryin to hug on my thug bitch
|
| Plus she done gave me the run-down on how this nigga run round
|
| Town speakin on my name, tonight he get gunned down
|
| His bitch about to set him out, open the door and let him out
|
| Caught his ass scared and out, Bronc style, dead him out
|
| Never have beef with a nigga who bitch you wanna sleep with
|
| Cowards get devoured on that sweet shit
|
| Hit him with the venom, then bounce with my adrenaline pumpin
|
| Yo nigga always up into somethin |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Always Inta Somethin' , by - Mac Dre. Song from the album It's Not What You Say...It's How You Say It, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп