Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Shadiest One, artist - WC. Album song The Shadiest One, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 31.12.1997
Record label: Dub Online
Song language: English
The Shadiest One |
| Hey, nigga, gimme some of them water and chip’s, shit |
| (other man) |
| Lock 'em up, nigga, lock 'em, bullshit |
| (man) |
| Hey, look, nigga |
| Get out there, nigga |
| These niggas ain’t so briz-ight, right |
| We gon' get in and get out |
| (other man) |
| We on a roll, nigga |
| I’m a walkin dead man |
| Fuckin' wit deez out-a-town niggas |
| Got me watchin' up on my back and strappin' |
| Pistol packin' |
| Who ever thought dem fools would catch on |
| And we was sellin' rock while up in the back of the broll |
| See da plan was to make a transaction to match |
| Three calos, four hundred a zone, a hundred thousand cash |
| You know da deal, nigga you know da outcome |
| Dub C and C Mac take tha money 'n run |
| We gettin' close, hot as fuck |
| Burnin' up in his drive |
| Two pace, mirror checkin' doin' sixty-five |
| I seen the state patrol 5 times, swear to god |
| He make this stop, better have 9 lives |
| Nigga beepin |
| Where you at? |
| Close nigga |
| You just have tha cash right so we can ghost, nigga |
| I never tell no |
| Nigga when I’m comin' through his town |
| Set us up, get a crew, gun us down |
| Fuck that, I dun dis shit befo' |
| After we twist deez niggas, we gon twist some mo' |
| (CJ Mac) |
| Out-a-town nigga havin' a pistal in hand |
| Whatcha paper, you fuckin' wit some jackers, player |
| Shit happens |
| Don’t fuck wit a niggas cash |
| Niggas blast, when it come to cash |
| Niggas mash, on dat ass |
| Don’t fuck wit a niggas cash |
| Niggas mash, on dat ass |
| Fo' a niggas cash, niggas blast |
| (T'is da season to be jackin falalalala lalalala) |
| Made the exchange, it’s strange, they ain’t even check |
| Switched the suitcase and jet |
| We ain’t stop to count da cash neither |
| Shit, nigga, I’mma leave it |
| Cause two a dem gas cans, was fulla straight ether |
| Fake twista, took her ass back to da piz-ad |
| Sent some mo crystals back to da liz-ab |
| To make some mo trick-climbin'-blatant-nigga loot |
| Cuz baby need new shoes and daddy need a coupe |
| Call my nigga, Fred, yo friend |
| He set up da lick |
| Gave his ass ten-thousand, thanked him n' shit |
| Told him 'Shut the fuck up', niggas try to sweat him |
| And not to take his ass out there, they bound to wet him |
| Uh huh, two months passed, I found his ass trashed out |
| Castrated on his porch, with his dick in his mouth |
| What the fuck? |
| I know these niggas ain’t here in L. A |
| I went and grabbed the AK n' called my nigga CJ |
| (What's crackin'?) Look it’s on wit deez niggas (what?) |
| Hey CJ nigga I just found this nigga Fred fucked up |
| (slow down, nigga) on the porch (Fred?) |
| Hey nigga it’s goin' down |
| Hey nigga meet me at cho bitch spot, nigga (what?) |
| Fuck that, let’s bring these in hea |
| Fuck these niggas! |
| Goin' 110 on da 110, exit slow |
| Shit my stomach uptight, sumthin' ain’t right (fuck that) |
| How da fuck they found where Fred stay |
| They ain’t never been out there, aw Dub, what the fuck?! |
| CJ, don’t trip, nigga, dey just killed yo bitch |
| Left her bleedin' in the porch wit' screwdriver’s in her head |
| Ransacked the house, took the work and the money |
| I could see that shit, but why the fuck you so bloody? |
| They took the hundred thousand we stole plus two mo' (right, right) |
| And if I know that nigga Bo he checked a in mo |
| Bo, aw nigga, what part of the game |
| You didn’t know that motherfuckas name! |
| First you found Fred dead, then you found my bitch wit her wig split |
| Nigga I ain’t stupid, you did that shit |
| Motherfucka shot me in my shoulda |
| Reaches for my strap, and started dumpin' back |
| Nigga, life’s a bitch and then you die |
| You only get one chance to check figures, trust no nigga |
| Shoulda known from the start, ain’t no love in my heart |
| Fuck this 50−50 shit, this is where we depart |
| I’ll be damned if I let this nigga walk wit' da dough |
| Kill my homeboy, kill my ho? |
| Fire fo' rounds, hit him twice, hit him in his stomach |
| See me vomit blood |
| Nigga eat slugs! |
| On my knees, I’mma see da bust back, fuck that |
| Somehow I managed, ta raise wit da wicked carriage |
| Ain’t no rules to dis shit, we jackers |
| Ain’t no love in this game, mothafucka, shit happens |
| I feel sorry, nigga |
| Just like every dog has his day |
| Every loc get his nights |
| I’ll be back at ya, my nigga (ain't no thang) |
| I can’t believe yo ass did some shit like that to me, nigga |
| It ain’t nothin' (hu, hu) |
| It ain’t nothin' |
| It’s goin' down |
| I’mma get that motherfucker |
| It’s on! |