Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Yuwannahoe, artist - Twiztid. Album song Psychopathics from Outer Space Part 2, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 08.12.2003
Record label: Psychopathic
Song language: English
Yuwannahoe |
What up ya’ll? |
Aight, gotta little something to say |
You know I been chillin, chillin in the underground |
And we see all of all ya’ll |
Yea we see ya’ll |
You know what I’m saying? |
Everybody in the game trying to do their thing |
You in the industry |
We in the streets |
You know what I’m saying? |
The label that runs beneath the streets |
Psychopatchic |
ABK, Esham, Blaze Ya Dead Homie, Zug Izland, ICP, and |
TWIZTID! |
Hey you bitch boy guess what? |
Me and my brother made of rubber |
So when Twiztid’s in the house |
We bounce the mothafucker |
Save your pen ink and your paper |
Player hater |
We bring the dark side |
Everywhere like the temper |
Ain’t you heard |
Ain’t nobody jocking your shit |
Use an open toed sandle |
Just flip-flopping it |
Here’s one for your play list |
Suck my mothafucking dick |
First single |
You can wait on the remix |
Get your candle blew out |
I feel the love homie |
Even if it’s hating your mouth |
I’m still the same sick and Twiztid individual |
Looking to go ballistic |
So reminiscent to make your |
I keep it covered and smothered |
Like hash browns |
And my war songs ready |
Keeping them vultures from swooping down |
I’m as classic as a throwback version |
Of Michael Myers |
Where the hatred that’ll spread |
Like a forest fire |
Why yuwannahoe? |
(So don’t worry) |
Don’t hate on me |
(Get the fuck outta here) |
I trying to shake them off my colar |
With a pop and a twist |
But these haters hang on |
Like some velcro shits |
I can’t escape it |
I try scraping them off |
But they holding on so tight |
It’s like rapping a moth |
I leave you mothafuckers shaking |
In the frost of my cold heart |
And burry you alive |
In a hole in my backyard |
Don’t act hard |
You don’t want to chance it sonny |
Monoxide, you know how we do this, money |
So now I hear that you’re attacking my crew |
For the shit that we do |
And you’se a bitch |
Thinking ain’t nobody sweeter then you |
We spitting sugar shock |
For you dum-dum lollypops |
Give you 20 whole seconds to reload your glock |
Better bust right |
If you’re looking for the lime light |
Better sit down |
Get your rhyme right |
Get your shit tight |
Round here we stay tight |
Like fly anus |
When no video |
Don’t no radio rotate us |
And no play list |
Just young, dumb, and faceless |
While big cats copping these dumb hoes |
And nice bracelet |
(You hear that, all you stars go wait on your publishing checks so you can pay |
your baby momma rent, what?) |
Why yuwannahoe? |
(So don’t worry) |
Don’t hate on me |
(Get the fuck outta here) |
I don’t know why |
They hate me so much |
Dedicating more then half of their life |
To doing such bitch ass shit |
It’s making me wanna retaliate |
You’d probably press charges |
Hoping that they’d lock me away |
I’m not a bad boy |
I’m a fat boy, bitch boy |
My whole team spits raps |
While your team is unemployed |
Riding a pie |
I’m a give them a piece of my mind |
You’se a back burner project |
Getting done up from behind |
My whole squad drops LPs to CDs |
And making way more chow |
Then you’ll hoes will ever see |
That’s right mothafuckers |
Quit selling that shrink rap |
Boo-boo bitch |
Why yuwannahoe? |
(So don’t worry) |
Don’t hate on me |
(Get the fuck outta here) |