Lyrics Spliff N Wessun - Sean Price, Ruste Juxx

Spliff N Wessun

Yeah, Sean P
Nahmean?
On Kingston Ave, in Crown Heights in the city
You know, Ruste Juxx
Haha, yeah, check it out
Ayo, ayo, listen
It go stop with the bullshit
Playing game niggas hopscotch when the tool click
Don’t make me pop ya'
Ya' black eye blue bitch, Frank Sinatra
You see ST and you be thinking rasta
Think it’s peace and love but I think he’ll drop ya'
Fake gangsta rappers got you thinking mobster
It’s a fact you an actor, thinking Oscar’s, yo
That’s when I slap this jerk
Take his Jesus piece, send him back to Catholic church
Niggas actin' like my motherfuckin' gat don’t work
'Til you hit and then collapse in the dirt and screamin' «That shit hurt»
Motherfuckin' right, that shit hurt
Niggas play tackle football with a plastic Nerf
Bitches with dreadlocks and, drapes on they back
Suck dick, plus they make biscuits from scratch
Yo, yo, yo
Niggas dial 9−1-1
I told the Smif-Wess one nine, one one
.45s and P229's
Storyline, it begins once upon a crime
Rustee Juxx in the gutter like stashed crack
Any block, any bitch, I’ma smash that
Yo, yo, ayo fuck Force 1's, Juxx stomping in Gore-Tex
Blaze up, you walk me through a vortex
Size three, Brooklyn playalistic
Mossberg music duke, don’t get it twisted
Ah, vainglorious
This is protected, by the B, the C, and the C
Sissies
Yo, yo
Ayo I shine, you shine
In this day in time, we pop off ya' head with the nine
Nah, we not soft, go 'head with the lies
Duke you a knockoff, ya' thread and designs is
Off the table
I’m dead broke nigga, they cuttin' off my cable
The criminal of the year, yeah I’m back to rob
So take ya' shine off, when you see me on the job
Due to the MAC, I’m strapped, ready to clap
React, stop runnin' ya' yap, and run ya' stack
Jaw carryin' chop and blow gems
Slash you in ya' Benz, we stoppin' gold rims
Pumpin' on the block, them rocks that glow stems
And I’m rollin' on 10, the size of my Timbs
Let me get a turkey sandwich and a bottle of juice please
A dollar change left, fuck it, give me two loosies
We ain’t got no trap
Three songs one session, it’s econo-rap
Spit, rip a nigga ass, raw rap on the reg
Catch me in the weed spot, clicking on the dread
See me in the flesh, real liftin' ya' chain
All you feel is the flame, fifth in ya' frame
In the cut wit' ya' bitch, feelin' up on her butt and her tits
She wanna fuck but, she can start suckin' this dick
I got a clique that, move more crowds than Eric B
With a shotgun, air hole TEC and Desert E’s