Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song You Ain't Sayin Nothin', artist - Tru. Album song The Truth, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 21.02.2005
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: KOCH Entertainment
Song language: English
You Ain't Sayin Nothin' |
You Ain’t Sayin Nothing, Nigga, You Ain’t Sayin Nothing x8 |
I’m the truth motherfucker I ball with Mike Bibby |
I’m in the Calliope project you want me, then come get me |
When niggas will jack you, them hoes got gats too |
These kids walk around with golds and tattoos |
J Prince, The King of The South, I just kept that bitch going |
Niggas disrespect me and I make you stop growing |
Boz he right here, Hot Boy he right here |
The New No Limit, nigga this is our year |
We about money, cars, bitches, hoes |
Kicking out windows and knocking down doors |
I’m a hustler motherfucker, I can’t work for the man |
Put them birds in the van, and holla catch me if he can |
They feeling me, my enemies mean-mug |
Still walk up in the club and buy the bars up |
Like What The What What, Get Beat the Fuck Up |
No Limit In This Bitch, You better shut the fuck up |
They don’t wanna play with me, they scared, ain’t said nothing |
We too deep up in the club, we waiting to start stunting |
Jumping like you crazy, like nigga you can’t fade me |
Tipsy on that remy, I’m ready to start blazing |
Like holding the club down, dipping out with cha lady |
Sprees on my Chevy, they spinning like changed faces |
Movin through the hood, Choppin like I am racing |
Boy say «He gone» but show me you can’t hate me |
Yeah this the year, so niggas just disappear |
Niggas gonna expect it from me, I’m right chea |
You drive, I’m right chea, My niggas, we right chea |
Riding, Might Drop Em, don’t wanna play round here |
We about money, cars, broads, hoes |
Kicking out windows and knocking down doors |
A cup full of remy and a bottle of Mo |
I light that dro when its time to smoke |
South West Philly P’s |
Them sawed off stickers, snatch out ya weave |
You can’t see me through the tips on the range |
It ain’t about the money, bitch we got change |
Gets ya hypnotic, Afficial, we bout it |
Real niggas up in the club, we ain’t smiling |
Respect on our shirt, my shoes are P Miller |
Find us on the block with thugs and drug dealers |
The cuts on our diamonds is sharp as grease |
It looks like the lights on our masterpieces |
My team strong so we ready for whatever |
Bad chicks wit us like we came here together |
Later on, I might lace something |
We in the club, hella deep, but your ass wouldn’t say something |
Put your hood in the air, represent your city |
Free C-Murder and wild out with me |