
Date of issue: 01.09.2003
Song language: English
Don't Fuck With Us |
What’s the deal know I’m saying, go down mayn Laf-Tex |
Bout to put it in these boys face, the Don nigga off top |
Scrap to get it, bloohound know I’m saying |
All us gotta eat mayn, so we gotta grind for it dog |
Y’all really don’t, wanna fuck with us |
I’m a split em up nigga and a Southside real, when I grab the mic I’m |
guaranteed to bless |
And guaranteed to wreck, they tal’n bout plex they guaranteed to snap necks and |
bust big techs |
Better yet Mike just ball in the mix, scrape the block I’m in a big wide sip |
AKA sit low Excursion, might knock off me a thoed Suburban |
I’m a Don Dada street game rap scholar, ain’t shit changed still in a Ramada |
Running through boppers and doing it raw, when the city get broke I buy the mall |
When I head to the sea I rock the wall, when I’m on v-dubs no time to stall |
When I pull up on glass I’m known to crawl, and when I ride dirty I gotta dodge |
the laws |
When thoed C-Loc when I’m on the d-low, me B and Jay’Ton you know we thoed |
Body rocking in my drop top low, I rip the track and now I’m bout to explode |
On the mic and drop game like bombs, debanere rap game phenomenon |
Bout to bomb any nigga in sight, throwing bows with a big red light |
End the night I ride on chumps, pop my trunk on any nigga that bump |
And when I dump these punks gon scat, say slow your roll cause I ain’t about to |
chit-chat |
That’s a fact and I’ll let it be known, respect my mind you standing in my zone |
Southside Texas that’s where I roam, and I’m thoed in the mind and gone in my |
zone |
Move up the sound, on my automatic cannon |
Muscle still smoking, nobody’s standing |
I’m running it, I’ll act a fool |
If another nigga say, that he selling Screw |
Have you ever, seen his face |
Or did you cop the style, off a Screw Tape |
Duct tape, me a bootlegger |
Had him on his knees, plea barging and begging |
Save your nuts, cause I don’t give a damn |
True blue soldier, that’s what I am |
These other niggas, belong in a dump |
'Fore I let em face the click, pull a pump |
Jump, but don’t get it criss-crossed |
We said it in deep, trying to fliss-floss |
We slow and low, and we six deep |
Day, Screw slowing down the tempo |
S.U.C. |
is who we are, coldest nigga you ever saw |
We thugged out and that’s on the bar, cock back ready for war |
Got fans drawing like Billy the Kid, haters plotting I’ll split your wig |
Listen just for a nigga to dig, I’m iced up my feel is big |
This game real but boys none, won’t stop till my job’s done |
Ain’t no fun we packing guns, sitting heavy bout two tons |
I’m one of the ones like P-A-T, off with your head if you fuck with me |
Hauling niggas off ain’t nothing to me, cause ain’t nan nigga got love for me |
You niggas act like you ain’t got enough of me, my lifestyle been rough for me |
But luckily I live luxury, I shake FED’s without even touching me |
You can’t fuck with this nigga done told you twice, verbal attack ain’t nothing |
nice |
Get a grip on that ass just like a vice, you roll the dice you pay the price |
These niggas already know, that it’s Southsi' for li' |
4:30 in the morning, and I’m still block bleeding |
With my hand on my heater, just in case a nigga slipping |
Pick him off at night time, with my 20/20 vision |
They got a cracker saying, that I’m a rat now |
Friends turn to foes, now you scared now |
Hiding behind love, but that won’t save ya |
Laf-Tex South, suppose to meet ya |
But bitch I’m all in, coward I’m all in |
Do what I wanna do, and ain’t no falling |
Ain’t no stalling, ain’t no snitch in my blood |
I done found out your bitch ass, trying to be a thug |
Get filled with slugs, cause I don’t play no games |
Peruvian flakes nigga, I’m uncut cocaine |
I put you to shame, anytime you step to the plate |
And that knows that the Juggler bitch, is far from fake |
I don’t know what make em think, that can hang with us |
Never seen em in the hood, with a grain of dust |
But they swear to God, they came up with us |
Where my real mo’fuckers, get them thang-thangs up |
I been serving blocks to the streets, since 9−3 |
And serving dicks to these bops, till they ass can’t see |
Should of named my lil' daughter, I-Tina for the moves I made |
On I-10 blending in, getting them dividends |
Y’all know me, it’s the Hogg Corleone |
Mobbing with my lil' bro, T-Pop Kapone |
Laf-Tex/C.F.E., we got a game plan now |
They can’t fade now, watch the K spray now |
I’m like Luda, move get out the way |
Lay it the fuck down, I’m about the gun play |
And I represent, from the Tre to Vesay |
Corleone’s back, and I’m having it my way come on |
Name | Year |
---|---|
R.I.P. To Screw | 2003 |
Roll With Us Or Get Rolled Over | 2003 |
On My Grind | 2003 |
Above Average | 2003 |
Mob With You | 2003 |
Wise Guy | 2003 |
Go Gettaz | 2003 |
Lil' Mama | 2003 |
Pimps, Playaz, Hustlers | 2003 |
Rip To DJ Screw (T-Pop feat. Z-Ro, C-Note, Trae & Ronnie Spector) | 2005 |