
Date of issue: 01.09.2003
Song language: English
R.I.P. To Screw |
Thanks to Screw, for all the things you do |
You can be my angel, fly me away |
DJ Screw what it do, 2002 I’m missing you |
Sometime I don’t know what to do, I reminisce about riding in the blue |
And following red it still turn heads, put me in a position to make some bread |
Now everybody everywhere bobbing they head, thanks to you God bless the dead |
Put me on tapes with freestyle flows, sitting on crates and sipping on fo’s |
Only the real Shorty Mac, Big Moe and A.C.T. |
you know I love you bro |
I’m missing my dog I miss my friend, I never thought it would come to the end |
Blaze on buttons they chop and spin, everybody running up when you come in |
DJ Screw and Z-Ro the Crooked, to another level you know we took it |
If they wanted a show 25 could book it, when the drama got on us you know we |
shook it |
My reason for rhyme is you my dog, and I’ma forever stay true my dog |
Gotta represent that blue eye dog, Robert Davis is who my dog |
All my success and all my exposure, you came from a square metal soldier |
Po’ing up the drank then smoke the doja, when my album blew up you said I told |
ya |
You showed me the game simple and plain, my one and only dog |
Guess I’ma meet you at the crossroads, till I die S.U.C. |
gon haul |
R.I.P. |
to DJ Screw, hold it down is what we do |
Blue Impala coming through, real niggas kept it true |
Gripping through the Southside, leaving hoes mouth wide |
Po’ing up and showing up, rolling in that buck hide |
But now you gone, can’t call your phone can’t call your home |
I’m in a zone, steady ripping soul through microphones |
Mayn it’s on, cause you know your nigga got your back |
Ripping shit on platinum tracks, C-Note still ain’t having that |
S.U.C., freestyles from P-A-T |
We would sip all night, until we fell asleep |
Fellow when you died, you know it got the best of me |
But I’ma still work hard, for your legacy |
Try to not let it worry me, my niggas mean the world to me |
Say what’s up to Pac and Gator, I’m repping till they bury me |
It’s official, until I meet again with my nizzles |
I’ll be in the Benz rolling kin, that’s for shizzle |
S.U.C. |
we still gon ball, DJ Screw I miss you dog |
In the studio with C-Note, and that Will-Lean out that Botany Boys |
You know how we do we collide on tracks, po' up fo’s and record on dats |
Reminiscing bout the old times, plus a nigga still thinking bout Pat |
All we got and still roll on, can’t stop gotta stroll on |
Telling your mama to stay strong, this is a sad song |
I’m crying now because I can’t hold back, Dead End-Wreckshop |
Screwed Up Click-Laf Tex, trying to get this platinum plack |
Even tax keep haunting me, the devil’s standing tall as me |
Trying to take my soul from me, but I got that Screw and that go with me |
(*talking*) |
I love you Screw, I’ll see you when I get there at the crossroads |
For the 2K3 we showing up cuz, S.U.C. |
to the top and one love |
I’ma wreck it and check it and do it all in they face, Lil' Trae blue-grey with |
tears on my face |
Cause I miss you dog I can’t cope, the day you left was the day my heart broke |
Screw-U I gotta ride till I go, mob united for cash everybody know |
And I’ma say so if you wanna ask me, body rocking and still crawling on 3's |
Slowed down and this for all of my G’s, Big Mello, Mafio and P-A-T |
Nevertheless stress on my chest in the black rain, why me dog I hate to feel |
pain |
I guess that’s why I be known to maintain, right hand to the man I’ma rep the |
name |
To the fullest Flip and Z-Ro, H-A-Dub-K, Note and Big Moe |
Po-Yo and all the rest of the click, like Al-D say down South we the shit |
Guerilla Maab gon mob for L-I-F-E, touch the mic and I’ma make em respect me |
Get me a plack if the game let me, R.I.P. |
until the game take me |
To Young 0−3 can you feel my pain, same old G stuck in the same old game |
Over crumb situations that would stay in the rain, underground Hall of Fame |
gotta feel me mayn |
This one here dedicated to the Don that’s gone, true blue partna still holding |
on |
Reminisce think back get high and blown, that Worldwide Players put you in zone |
Way back making tapes freestyling in, got it bad took chance start pimping pens |
Blowing smoke in the wind steady setting trends, at the pad acting bad started |
fast and thin |
Screw you the Don man I miss you cuz, pray everynight for eternal love |
Make a sing at the cross send it to the sky, and see the vision of you above |
Friend like you I ain’t never had, 'spired a young G to go get the cash |
All night in the lab with the gift of gab, put it on my mind that it’s the time |
to mash |
Now the whole world screwed all because of you, Dat Boy Grace and L.O.S. |
gon kee it true |
Turning heads rolling blue giving boys the flu, holding down the crown to |
reunite with you |
G to the R-A-C to the E, S.U.C. |
feel the V-E-T |
Grey dub tape wreckers in '93, more than a DJ he was family |
One love to my cuz I’ll be thinking of ya, forever and a day send down I love ya |
Straight up baby, G-R-A-C-E L-O-S we love ya |
Can’t even express the pain, that I’m feeling now dog |
Tears fall, everytime I got to write one of these songs |
Everybody gotta go P-A-T, Lil' Gator |
Mafio, Michael, Theus, Pat Lemon and Mello |
I’m like damn, who’s gon be next |
They wonder why I sleep and creep, with a vest and two techs |
My haters pray, for my downfall |
For the love of DJ Screw, I continue to ball |
Just hopped off lockdown, and H.A.W.K. |
killing this shit |
Pok' still the Hardest Pit, Ke' the Don of the click |
We out here going platinum, straight up shitting on niggas |
You can smile, cause you made it all happen my nigga come on |
This is for my DJ, S-C-R-E-W |
The whole Screwed Up Click loving you, until I die I’ma thug for you |
Like Eryka Badu, S.U.C. |
we getting big |
Please do’t get it twisted kid, Will-Lean the Chemist will flip your lid |
I did my bid and bring the pain, every city state I scream your name |
Rep the game when my weapon dang, cock back and disconnect your brain |
I’m holding it down for Texas mayn, coast to coast with this Texas gang |
Show em how to stretch the caine, DJ Screw’s a legend mayn |
I ain’t playing, Robert Earl shocked the world |
With skills more valuable, than rocks and pearls |
It’s the Chemist trick and I’m in this shit, S.U.C. |
to the finish bitch |
Botany’s still independent bitch, S.U.C. |
to the end of this shit uh |
(*Ronnie Spencer*) |
Fly away hmmmm, rest in peace baby |
Name | Year |
---|---|
Roll With Us Or Get Rolled Over | 2003 |
On My Grind | 2003 |
Don't Fuck With Us | 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 |