Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 4 Horsemen (192 NIt), artist - Phife Dawg.
Date of issue: 24.09.2000
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
4 Horsemen (192 NIt) |
Lo, Bay, Snag, and Phife |
This is how we hold it down every night |
Aiyyo it’s Lo, Bay, Snag, and Phife |
Money in our pocket and our chicks is right |
Aiyyo it’s Lo, Bay, Snag, and Phife |
This is how we hold it down every night |
Aiyyo it’s Lo, Bay, Snag, and Phife |
Aiyyo, money in our pocket and our chicks is right |
There’s a lot of niggas out there that spit that shit |
And there’s alot of motherfuckers that just talk shit |
But a nigga like me, I got hundred percent G To get a homeless nigga come and cop a tape off me I do my thing with the flows, do my thing with the hos |
And my nigga Bay Lloyd keep a fresh pair of both |
When it’s time to rock raps you better be on your toes |
It’s Big Lo, I come through with the murderous rhymes |
Man, Mike got shit but he ain’t fuckin’with mine |
Chick be like, yo who the fuck left the pussy open? |
Feelin’fucked up in his skins while he strokin' |
Mad cause a nigga like me left it open |
I’m the cat on the low in the hood, who be creepin' |
Catch me with a hot black chick or a Rican |
If shorty blow the spot, fuck it we just won’t be speakin' |
But trust me she’ll be back by the motherfuckin’weekend |
Cause I stays on my toes when it comes to the freakin' |
I kick the hot shit that keep my whole team eatin' |
When it comes to rap, I got a arm like a quarterback |
The nigga to but your daughter on the track, and sell her body |
Not stressed for paper, there’s more to rap |
It’s the fans, they like to see me pop bottles at every party |
Got our band’s website, for fiends to order crack |
I’m the man of my hood, I thought I told you that, don’t be nervous |
You’re worthless, BE ALL YOU CAN BE! |
Y’all niggas better off joinin’the service |
Don’t hustle y’all baby (mama), why don’t you sell garbage |
Twelve-twelve fifty eighths, hear me take off like Curtis |
Mayfield, and reach a nigga, stay still |
Y’all niggas, don’t you know can’t fuck around with Bay’s skills |
Come in heavy like Durangos with thick soles |
I’d rather hair stores sell weave to Kim Coles |
This here hold it down for Lynden, Bully like what! |
Runnin’through life and not givin’a fuck |
Gotta get your paper, never mind these sluts |
They ain’t goin’nowhere we can always get butt |
Hit the record button Snag’s about to floss logic, tape deck |
I spit more classics then niggas been raised by poppin’acid |
Now peep my tactics, flat on they back, without a mattress |
When I go birdy, Snag in the Gucci casket |
I brought platinum back, but it’s only on the plastic |
It’s the fourth quarter, peep the Snag as he stretches |
Y’all niggas claim you playas but you warmin’up the benches |
I back-crack bitches on mats, whip out extensions |
Hit the box on your backboard, piss on your track boy |
Hijack a car for the landin’and then kill you |
Shea Stadium, on the roof of the Paladium |
And get head, 'til I bob through, this chick is premium |
If any gun’s pulled Snag’ll be the one aimin''em |
Lettin’off like a menace, all at your fuckin’tree |
And leavin’you careless, Snag said it it’s time to end it Last but not least it’s Mutt Ranks |
Nice with the mic and you can take that to the bank |
Knockin’all you maggots out the park like the Yanks |
First nigga on stage, that’s my word he’s gettin’shanked |
No longer Phife Dawg, see them bloody days are done with |
Mutty Ranks now! |
Time that I get on some dumb shit |
It’s great goin’solo thats my motherfuckin’word! |
You know my style Bay, gotta put myself first |
Anybody poppin’shit then they get what they deserve |
With chicks I get more action than a motherfuckin’verb |
Come one, come all and you all will get served |
Cats is hard-headed when the fuck will they learn |
Too many fraud rappers, I don’t know 'bout them I deal with |
For those that’s hard of hearin', G I’ma make you feel it Fuck your pot smokin’and your sips of Hennesey |
The pussy that you get, what the fuck that mean to me? |
Handcuff these clowns and the rhymes they be sayin' |
One smack to the mouth and they know you ain’t playin' |
When I’m on the mic, son there won’t be no delayin' |
Them niggas frontin’hard be the same niggas prayin' |
Knawmsayin'? |