Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Hell No, artist - Memphis Bleek. Album song M.A.D.E., in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 31.12.2002
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Universal Music
Song language: English
Hell No |
| Yo, yo, yo, it’s tha roc in tha house |
| Nigga, we got Hype-D here, we fixin' to go down |
| You know what it is tha song is hell no |
| Yo, I’m Bleek and this is tha ROC, yo, let’s spit at 'em |
| When you up in tha club nobody showin' ya love |
| You say, hell no |
| When yo girl call up a snitch and she call you a bitch |
| What you say? |
| Hell no |
| When you start beff and it get start |
| What cha say? |
| Hell yeah |
| When tha ROC is in tha house |
| What cha? |
| Hell yeah |
| First it was Bleek then it was tha Reff |
| Then it was Chris and Neff, now who back in tha game? |
| Who take ya fame? |
| Who dash dame? |
| How he get fame? |
| 'Cause look nigga, I’m a crook, I got tha mood |
| I like some of y’all niggas but I’ll eat ya food |
| Just like anybody else would so do what cha can do |
| When I lock 'n' load and head to tha boat |
| And take ya black coat and take ya 9 |
| Take ya fine take ya dine Hype-d, Roc, Memph Bleek |
| Smokin' tha reff, growin' tha leaf, startin' beff |
| Stealin' ya lines and beats and packin' tha heats |
| Steppin' on ya toes and fuckin' ya hoes |
| Nigga, I bust ya ass up and then take ya cup |
| So throw ya hands in tha air like ya don’t care |
| And face ya fears 'cause when I come through expect to die |
| 'Cause nigga, ya will be fried, niggas don’t crie |
| But I know you do you fake |
| You can’t compete with me you’z ain’t free |
| I smoke on trees and I trap and rap in tha atl |
| Shit, I can put ya shit in a basket and ship it to Alaska |
| Don’t fuck with D or hey girl, just call me Hype-D |
| 14 in tha rap game takin' ya fame |
| Ain’t that said you faggots ya get to mad easy ya songs are chessy |
| Listen to me ya know me, I ain’t gotta be D |
| I’m hype to tha D, don’t ya see? |
| Or H to tha I to tha l nigga, you goin' to hell |
| So ring tha bell and shut tha fuck up |
| Before I get some girls just to buck yo ass up |
| I know they can, nigga, I ain’t scared |
| You weared out, that ain’t no doubt |
| I rap forever, I’m here forever |
| Rev up tha rever and take tha teveria |
| Got tha marriata and 45 choopa Z and 9's lock 'n' load that shit |
| And then hit 'em up and for all my hoes |
| I’m gonna beat that thing up and lemme pour some drink |
| And yo, I’m here and I’m under 14 with a black card, nigga |
| You act hard, nigga, you soft as a pop tart |
| You want beff, I got ya beff, come steal my reff or smoke ya own |
| I don’t knock ya hustle, I just bust it and then I cut it |
| So this is a southern toast and have a boast and get tha roast |
| This is bars, just don’t know how many |
| Hey to all ya snitch niggas, go suck on y’all’s mommas tittys |