Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Cardiac, artist - Sean Price.
Date of issue: 29.01.2007
Song language: English
Cardiac |
The first verse is the worst |
Like why the fuck they call you Jesus Price, nigga? |
And you curse in church |
Napoleon complex, niggas earth your Lurch |
Fuck a hood, nigga, earth my turf |
Nah I mean, gave a pound of vile pork, beat Malachi off |
Had to slap him in the face, with a Ballantine cloth |
Silverback Sean’s happy on songs, I ain’t dissing |
Just you muthafuckas listening wrong, listen |
Cock diesel niggas smoking on crack, Tony Atlas |
Flash four-four, with them Thelonious bastards |
I mastered the style of mastering styles |
I fight a fair one then blast a round with the pound |
Sean is the best, ya’ll niggas is the opposite, pa |
Shut the fuck up, put a sock in it, pa, be quiet |
I put a hole in ya hat, Jesus Price soul controller of rap, amen |
This that hard body shit, pump shotty shit |
Niggas shooting the party up over a bitch, shit |
This that ignorant shit, niggas pull a trigger, quick |
This what ignorance is, yea fire and all this |
If you dealing with bricks, then we gon' take it |
And if you dealing with chips, then we gon' take it |
But if you dealing with tips, my head shake it |
Cuz my niggas is in this shit, and that’s crazy |
It’s the five foot gorilla with the mind of a killa |
Killing every nigga in sight, murdered by ya mirror |
Ill reflections of a protecting ya face |
Bitches tucking in they necklace when I step in the place |
Niggas acting like they hard, but they soft as Jell-O |
You can tell them niggas pussy, when they walk by, hello |
I know, I was scoping you, was hoping I fall |
Like a pair on design shorts, no, not at all |
I’m not the one, but I got that two |
And if you need me to add on more, I bring it through |
Cuz I got a trunk for niggas who say they ain’t scared |
Go for your gun, I let my mack ten braid ya hair |
With a little style, I call presto change-o |
When the bullets in the chamber, I press it to change, yo |
Right back atcha, with the knife and bat atcha |
Better ask you could I smack you, if I didn’t, I was glad to |
This that hard body shit, pump shotty shit |
Niggas shooting the party up over a bitch, shit |
This that ignorant shit, niggas pull a trigger, quick |
This what ignorance is, yea fire and all this |
If you dealing with bricks, then we gon' take it |
And if you dealing with chips, then we gon' take it |
But if you dealing with tips, my head shake it |
Cuz my niggas is in this shit, and that’s crazy |
Yeah, run a good tree from the yard, then |
Juxx make you lick shots pon de squad, then |
I rock rock wit that bang bang boogie |
Stomp through hot blocks with that thang thang wit me |
It’s all gravy and mashed potatoes, I smash haters |
Bust bullets, blast tazers, slash razors |
Say my rap sheet is longer than my wrap sheet |
Young niggas ask me, rhyming to a rap beat |
Crack in the days of the eighties |
Produced alotta inner city hood crack babies |
Bird niggas moving like a chicken with his throat slit |
But I bet I lean 'em when I hit 'em wit this dope shit |
Never slip, slack off and blowing your back off |
Niggas is wack soft, we throwing your track off |
Never got a pack off, fuck the jack off |
I’mma let the latch off and pop ya cap off |
This that hard body shit, pump shotty shit |
Niggas shooting the party up over a bitch, shit |
This that ignorant shit, niggas pull a trigger, quick |
This what ignorance is, yea fire and all this |
If you dealing with bricks, then we gon' take it |
And if you dealing with chips, then we gon' take it |
But if you dealing with tips, my head shake it |
Cuz my niggas is in this shit, and that’s crazy |