Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Street Music, artist - Sheek Louch.
Date of issue: 07.11.2005
Song language: English
Street Music |
There comes a time, in every man’s life |
When he gon' have to decide, who he fuckin with |
Who you fuckin with? |
Them niggas don’t care about you |
Them niggas don’t give a fuck about you |
Why you rappin like that? |
This street music! |
Yo, let’s, talk about it what; |
Sheek can throw |
The fiend on a nigga guarantee he won’t walk up out it |
No no, nickel-plated uhh; |
kinda old |
But the muzzle them usin make this motherfucker updated |
Puh-puh, nigga please; |
if a nigga had your son |
And had him lookin down you wouldn’t even squeeze |
Uh uhh, I don’t know; |
I don’t wanna hear about |
The money that you had, or what you did a long time ago |
Yo yo the hood is mine; |
I don’t gotta sell a lot |
I just live off more points than the porcupines |
Uh uhh, feel me cousin? |
Sheek been a problem |
Before this D-Block shit started buzzin |
Some are sayin — no he wasn’t, he turned sick |
With that women in your family can suck my dick |
And I’ve been red hot every since; |
I ain’t sayin I’m the best |
Muh’fucker, I’m just workin with some sense |
This is that blood, crip, latin king shit, every hustler pushin a whip |
Street music — what? |
This is that blood, crip, latin king shit, every hustler pushin a whip |
Street music — what? |
Y’all niggas so sweet, Sheek so street |
From the doo rag on my head to the sneakers on my feet |
The heart in my chest, black on my flesh |
And I swear to my son, I’ll leave this shit a mess |
I do it for the yard, where most of my squad |
Is sittin in a cell, goin through hell |
And every frontin nigga got a story to tell |
Bye bye nigga, doves fly nigga |
The hardest nigga spittin came from Bed-Stuy nigga |
After that was Sheek, some say it was Jigga |
I got loyalty; |
I ain’t a king to none of this shit |
But I swear, on the streets I’m royalty |
Kinda scary ain’t it? |
You don’t wanna be |
That’s why the hood treat you colder than the A&P |
I throw my fists up — but it ain’t for black power |
It’s for any motherfucker that gets up |
Niggas don’t wanna buh-bug bang with me |
Cause 9 out 10 when you see me I got the muh’fuckin thangs with me |
Fuck it put 'em up; |
muh’fucker put your guns in the air |
If you with me nigga hold 'em up |
Ruh ruh rowdy ain’t it; |
I ain’t afraid to go to war |
And have a nigga white tee, like you fingerpaint it |
Every hood got 'em, kinda hard to spot 'em |
Once I’m there about to tell you what nigga shot him |
What the fuck is up? |
I ain’t nuttin up |
Niggas hard 'til they leakin through they button up |
Get at my crew, whatever nigga who |
You don’t need a flight to be all JetBlue |
Understand me nigga — if it happens, it happens |
But I ain’t really a Grammy nigga |
Sheek spit rage; |
y’all don’t want me to win nuttin |
I’m bringin the whole Block on the stage |