Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Music , by - Outsidaz. Release date: 18.06.2001
Song language: English
Music |
| Talk about sex, packin' chrome, techs, hero' bones |
| And coked up white chicks that look like Sharon Stone |
| Washed up M.C.'s, whose styles have been grown |
| Like 40 years old, still pickin' average poems |
| And now it’s on, ya niggas wanna get beat |
| Just bring that shit around 20th Street |
| Don’t get me wrong, thugs come hopin' to bust |
| But uncock their Glock when they know this is us |
| And bitches, the girls keep the block jumpin' |
| Somebody get shot, they don’t tell the cops nothin' |
| So keep on bouncin', rock a 3−5-7 |
| That Biggie and Pac shit should of taught ya a lesson |
| God yes, cuz pain is the object |
| Watch 'em stay broke like elevators in the projects |
| Everything we did, we did it the hardest |
| This kid is retarded, hate all you want, we gon' get it regardless |
| Representin' Jersey, ain’t no other state |
| Before the love and hate, huawk, spit in ya mother’s face |
| Ya life, what a waste, grab a knife, cut a snake |
| No love the jake, I’m out to catch another case |
| Outsidaz, only here to make their mark |
| And run around this world like it’s Raceway Park |
| Crash and start, front, chased by NARC’s |
| Five deep, smokin' four blunts, it ain’t shit, take their heart |
| Never catch us, regardless of the etch-a-sketcher's |
| We out takin' vestes, makin' messes |
| To each is own, we settle beef wit chrome |
| Got niggas comin' out their Morese Malone |
| Now it’s here like anything goes on the track |
| Harriett step up to bring real rhymes back |
| You know shit is bad when the rapper can say |
| They ain’t even in the game for the lyrics anyway |
| Well that’s okay, the underground stay shinin' |
| Those runnin' for the door gonna end up resignin' |
| And years later, I’m gonna still be the tighter |
| Majority’s splurger, call it all the tax writer |
| It’s the Outsidaz faculty |
| Throwin' up the finger in ya magazine |
| My click be pumpin' more whips than gasoline |
| In the Bricks we knowin' for stickin' shit and havin' warrants |
| For the props, we lick more shots than alcoholics |
| I call it living, Iz, makin' a killing |
| Off these twenties, I’m dealin' feedin' my children, Jesus is in 'em |
| Eager and willin' to put ya muthafuckas in the fetal position |
| Deeper then listen, when the Outz come through |
| Niggas break dumb fool, pull out gun tools |
| Makin' muthafuckas run jewels |
| So the ending to the story, kid |
| The worries bid, more niggas will get fit to our music |