Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Thug Muzik, artist - Termanology. Date of issue: 08.12.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Thug Muzik |
| I don’t wanna go, I don’t, I don’t wanna go |
| I want my soul to live forever like Geronimo |
| Product of this environment, shit where I’ma go? |
| They throw me in with the lions, we gon' put on a show |
| All I know is supplyin' 'em with the dusted flow |
| This shit I spit be wet, nigga, Pappadeaux |
| More shootings and students that’s killin' little kids |
| This might be the antichrist, I don’t trust a thing |
| Niggas now don’t value life and die over bling |
| Niggas now don’t run through life so they’d rather sing |
| Shit, I want a knife like the Book of Eli |
| I’m Denzel, watchin' these niggas fill the masses with lies |
| This why people kill people and go eye for an eye |
| Way before great Biggie Smalls, they’ve been ready to die |
| Premeditate that moment when they see their foe |
| And treat 'em like paper targets, fill 'em with holes |
| Know where I’ve been and know what I’ve seen and |
| Not a thing can keep me from hustlin' |
| Never look down, keep on movin' ahead |
| Flyin' on high, no need to settle in |
| The streets on fire, four murders in the weekend |
| Ain’t nobody snitchin' cause they don’t want it to be them |
| The world’s corrupt, suckerpunch a cop and he’s sure to bust |
| Stuff him and he’ll murder you, look what happened in Ferguson |
| Hands up, don’t shoot, they ain’t tellin' the whole truth |
| The whole world sleepin' and shit, so you can see the proof |
| Usin' their iPhones as video recorders |
| Channel 5 from the corners, we’re like ghetto reporters |
| My homie came through with a Smith N in his hand |
| He just snatched another chain, put the picture on the 'gram |
| It’s no fucks given anymore |
| You get robbed bareface front of the camera just to make an example |
| I grew up like the regular thug, on the run, eatin' |
| Every weekend I’m sittin' at gang meetings |
| My cousin’s gettin' shot, we runnin', duckin' from cops |
| Man it ain’t a fuckin' thing, you can’t tell me about the block |
| I know you hate to hear the drama, but drama’s all we know |
| Another night twisted, breakin' the law for dough |
| More 4s to blow, never cut it, tryna score some blow |
| Itchin', tryna find a purer snow |
| The block’s hot when it’s 4 below |
| Another discouraged brotha hustlin' cause of that choreo |
| Another hood rat tryna trap a nigga at the Maury show |
| Seems bugged but that’s the world we know |
| Sometimes I sit and reflect, and I can’t remember |
| How many times I was supposed to be a gang member |
| But wasn’t takin' orders from someone of the same gender |
| The point guard with the big niggas that played center |
| Shot called it, I pop all you |
| My nigga you was on them blocks order |
| Never put in work and got caught up |
| No more postin' with the Glocks on corners to pop 'em on yah |
| I transform the easy to hip-hop performer |
| We’re just thuggin' it out for you |
| We’re just thuggin' it out for you |
| We’re just thuggin' it out for you |
| We’re just thuggin' it out for you |
| Thug music |