| Sniff on this good shit, that got your eyes swollen
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| Your nose strippin', what’s that shit you sippin'
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| My mind’s trippin', sometimes I feel I’m slippin'
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| I feel like slippin' a clip in and start flippin'
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| I figured you out (yeah) I got reasonable doubt
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| You’se a loud mouth, that’s not what a thug is about
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| You’se a homo nigga, that just caught a deal
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| Just because you got money, don’t make you real
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| I tell it like it is, because, this is how I feel
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| Just because you got guns, don’t mean you kill
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| Just because your top drop, don’t make you hot
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| Braggin' about what got, might get you shot
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| Yo-yo-yo-yo, yo, fuck 'em! |
| Leave 'em face down
|
| Yeah! |
| Side up, from the waist down
|
| Yup! |
| He’s sized up for the grave now
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| Lay down, nigga, just stay down
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| We like four steps ahead of you, dick
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| You small claims court, we federal
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| Style’s want investibles, quit actin' like you never knew
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| Bitch nigga vegetable stew, no beef
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| All this proceeds, for the gold teeth and more grief
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| Man I told you they was gonna sleep, Street
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| Never mind heat for these freaks
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| Catch Cooley on High like Cochise
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| Make 'em scream, going from yelling O.G. |
| to Oh Jesus
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| Can’t believe this mothafucka knocked out my gold teeth
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| Just pardon me, god, for using your name in vein
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| But it’s like these salt watered card niggas spoiled the game
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| Your money and fame, won’t bury all the worry and pain
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| When I hot rock pop and rock the side of your brain
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| Yo-yo-yo-yo, yo, fuck 'em! |
| Leave 'em face down
|
| Yeah! |
| Side up, from the waist down
|
| Yup! |
| He’s sized up for the grave now
|
| Lay down, nigga, just stay down
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| Microphone check, I got dough to get
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| I never sweat, I approach the mic like a seasoned vet
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| Auto death, threat you send, I haven’t seen 'em yet
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| When we step on the set, y’all be quiet as kept
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| When we come through, y’all just move through the left
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| All that 'rah-rah' talk, you keep it under your breath
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| I suggest y’all show the Street nigga respect
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| I’m not a rap cat, I just rap for the check
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| And I will tap that chin, if you get out of text
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| If you feel that, you can disrespect what I rep
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| I’m from Shaolin (what) you better watch your step
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| Remember what the Wu told you, Protect Ya Neck
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| This the Jump Off, I’mma show you how they really get wreck
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| You get knocked off, when I black eye, to smash the specs
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| Your best bet is just to cop out, put down the tech
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| That’s not gangsta, I don’t care how much you slept
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| Yo, I got a head full of time and nigga
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| Fuck around, you be heading for the Chimer Center, messin' with mine
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| Keep a closet full of hammers, I ain’t stressin' your nine
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| So keep them pea shooters to yourself, study your wealth
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| You gonna need some of that money, to fuck with your health
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| I’m trynna front for me, dummy, you’d rather front for yourself
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| (Have you leakin', runnin' from the scenes screamin' for help)
|
| Knowing your shit trash, last to sell, the worst on the shelf
|
| Yo-yo-yo-yo, yo, fuck 'em! |
| Leave 'em face down
|
| Yeah! |
| Side up, from the waist down
|
| Yup! |
| He’s sized up for the grave now
|
| Lay down, nigga, just stay down
|
| Yo-yo-yo-yo, yo, fuck 'em! |
| Leave 'em face down
|
| Yeah! |
| Side up, from the waist down
|
| Yup! |
| He’s sized up for the grave now
|
| Lay down, nigga, just stay down |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Faced Down, artist - Streetlife. Album song Wu Music Group presents Pollen: The Swarm, Pt. 3, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп