Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Jigga, artist - Ruff Ryders. Date of issue: 31.12.1998
Song language: English
Jigga |
| For the crack peoples down at hc…, |
| Back on the block jayz motherfucker from the the the rock, |
| Went solo on that ass but it’s still the same, |
| Brooklyn be the place where I served them things. |
| Be my niggas was strugglin, |
| To the birds they came, |
| And then we got into hustlin and murderin things, |
| I dipped in my stash, |
| Splurged on the chain, |
| Now I’m titanic… Iceberg’s the name!, |
| Leave playas on end of reserve… Hurt the game, |
| The best way to describe me… The word insane!, |
| I dicked down chicks on my merge and my fame, |
| Jigga been dope since slick rick’s first chain, |
| The god sent you back to the earth from which you came, |
| I’m baking soda water fire merge with cane, |
| Ladies don’t know me… Said I heard he’s vain, |
| Well guess what mahmi I heard the same, |
| You Heard the name… |
| I got a licensed to kill so I stare at the gat, |
| Rocafella, ruff ryders, niggas scared a that!, |
| Got a new model this year-don't fuck With My Ones, |
| Knock on your door, three in the morning, |
| It’s Just Us And The Guns!, |
| See I scramble with priests, |
| Hustle with nuns, |
| I got the… My capacity of the young bush cassidy, |
| Niggas get fly, |
| Let’em defy gravity, |
| For, five rapidly, |
| Lift your chest cavity, |
| Streets wont let me chill, |
| Always been a clumsy nigga don’t let me spill, |
| Mohfuckas wanna wet me still, |
| I remain y’all, |
| Brought the one, like five divided by fo’ur, |
| Shit this just the hate that’s been provided by y’all, |
| Reciprocated and multiplied by mo’re, |
| You likely to see jigga in a wide body ore, |
| Drop-top bentley is all, |
| Holla at me y’all!, |
| I don’t giva fuck about some-one or one million, |
| But I think you should, |
| Cause if I only sold one, then out comes the hood, |
| All-black in the glove the outcome aint good!, |
| Some niggas act like-wuh… How come, they could?, |
| Cause we don’t drop hits we drop bombs and smash, |
| Till the wristes lit up… The arm looks like glass, |
| The necklace chipped up… The charm flashed, |
| Could fuck up your eyes like the bomb is ha’sh, |
| See the reason why chicks let me palm there ass, |
| All I gotta do is let them call me shawn eglass, |
| Let’em sit up in there whips till I launch it back, |
| Snap there neck, then shoot’em to there arms and backs, |
| To calm this cat, |
| Trustme when I palm this gat, |
| Kill your mind, body and soul, |
| Push your conscious back, |
| Moms is back, |
| Flex drop a bomb to that, |
| Now everybody singalong to the track, |
| (chorus until the end) |