Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Jiggy Comin', artist - Shyheim.
Date of issue: 27.05.1996
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Jiggy Comin' |
Hello? |
(arabic voice) You have a collect call phone call |
In a New York state correctional facility |
Press five five to accept, or hang up to decline |
Whattup gangstas, how tha fuck ya’ll feel |
We keepin it real, and hold on tight to your steel |
Let them caps peel, one by one |
And laugh while the nig run |
He shoulda been packin his gun, now he gone |
Cuz he got slippin like an old bitch |
In the wet staircase shaft, now watch his man snitch |
To tha police, but them no worry me son |
I ain’t trying to get back it’d be my third felony |
Pataki he want to see us, criminals fry |
In the electric chair, but my spirit will never die |
A true project nigga, I won’t hesitate |
To pull the BLAOW, peace to all busy niggas |
One love y’all stay safe |
And fuck you, Officer Brown, peace to that nigga Case |
WhOO WhOO |
Jiggy comin, fuck tha police y’all, cuz I ain’t runnin |
All ya’ll police can suck my diiiiiiick |
And Mayor Guliani, that cracker boy full of shit |
I represent, for all my niggas doing time |
And those who got beat up and killed by the swine |
Beo-tches, them porks, beotch |
Them think them bad, cuz they carry, Glocks and badges |
And when I’m pimpin in my green Acura |
They pull me over, like I stole it from some nigga |
But all my paperwork is legit |
Registered insured in my name, so ya’ll pigs can shit |
Police be cockin me like I’m some dime piece |
A G from the street so I can never turn beast |
There’s crooked cops, that’s why they get shot by tha minute |
If you were criminal and you ready to represent, kid |
Blaow, that’s how I like it, word is bond |
My hair ain’t blonde my eyes ain’t blue so now I’m dead boo |
It’s on like this is war, all my brothers in the hood |
I gots fam that’s constant understand I wish they would |
But it’s all good, peace to my niggas locked in jail |
Bushy Kam, Killa Kane, Fogey Foo, and Ale |
Down Low Wrecka and Junior be on storm |
Keep your headz up, and keep it real cuz you know I’m gonna |
And for my niggas doin six months |
I see yo ass next summer, word up |
Cause I ain’t runnin' |
Rest In Peace. |
to all them niggas |
That got murdered by the police |