Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Thug War, artist - Wu-Syndicate. Date of issue: 19.04.1999
Song language: English
Thug War |
| Thug war, fights in streets, open the drug store |
| Money is power, give me your’s, we break laws |
| Faggot cats claiming their crooks |
| Soon I’ma smack him up, his mans and them too |
| Yo, bag him up, smack him up Doing this do or die lifestyle for ransom |
| 50 g’s, need keys to free their grandson |
| Run but you can’t hide, rich is what we long for |
| You get your wig split back, caught in this thug war |
| Peace to those men who do crimes ande never been arrested |
| Project cats with guns start to run shit |
| Coming from the streets, gum on long dick |
| Get strong-armed for baggage, it’s tragic, some Vietnam shit |
| Flat-lining all you cats up in a long wiz |
| Out-of-towners, proper heavenly father, you know the song, bitch |
| Thug war, jet-black cats kick in your drug store |
| Cook off this table, the cheddar is what we came for |
| Aim for, lay down boy, this ain’t no game war |
| Cause me to smack all faggots, taking your chains off |
| Thugs spending half of your cabbage on a Range Rov' |
| Change clothes, switch me description to de-stained blow |
| Chopping while we spread up you nosey niggaz |
| Kidnap and capture bums, we swindell |
| I’m saying, «Fuck the rapping», since I was a kid, I made it happen |
| On blocks packing, get them, jacking niggaz acting |
| Watch me snatch them up, $ 100,00 ransom, no subtracting |
| Front doors, tell your mans, don’t panic, open the drug stores |
| Heavenly words spoken, promises were never broken |
| As they blood-suck the sun, we manifest these platinum tokens |
| Hail enterprise, complete down and gritty wise guys |
| Ghetto wiz kids, prescribe them as philosophy baptizes |
| Look at snake eyes, wicked as a pastor’s bubble eye |
| Imagine this, guns clapping, lamped like precussions of action |
| Why the sand in the hour glass elapsing |
| Camel-backed apostles get smacked with rusty masks |
| Preaching that God spook, Napolean remains hostile |
| Cast were burning nostrils, ruger barrels on your tonsils |
| A prophecy, blood currency, state of emergency |
| I link with rich cats who’s pockets stay dirty |
| Like Diamond Back, mocassins that raid ancient jungles |
| Stinging sensation, injected with 7 bundles |
| Raw element, U.S./Russian coalition |
| 15 for half a crest, them drug lord’s sniffing |
| Yo, back to the massacre, bloods courted in Alaska |
| Anatomies get fractured, Sampson was captured |
| By Philli-stinians, lesson’s on in this millenium |
| 80 cowards, 4 devils, hand them less Benjamins |
| Peace to rich men, Jews with snowflakes spinning |
| Rip camera sins, tropical winds blew my fellings in We’re jungle chameleons, some be 9 milli’men |
| Creep like centipedes, snatch stacks up from silly men |
| Cursed by the wicked gin, keep peepers blue-fenced |
| To my nested kin, I leave some Japanese yams |
| What? |
| What? |
| What? |
| Innocent on some plead the 5th shit |
| Criminal illegitiment lifestyle, Allah, the intrickit |
| Rott like rocks from rocks, in state tots |
| See Doc’ors starilize me, seeing poppy in a Casa Lopi |
| Don’t need to persue me, Soloman, the dominant |
| Straircases on dot, your man, Crime Syndicate |
| Shine like white fine on fickel-plated razors |
| Frequently cave us for selling dead birds in live cages |
| So, I’m contagious sick, touch my caliber |
| Cock, malice like Gallagher, crash your whole calender |
| Fuck, who got stamina to last, I leave him dead-ass |
| with lead in his ass, caught in the rash |
| Sexy niggaz get sodomized, observe the wicked eyes |
| Villains got my world baptized |
| Mafioso, scenarios, the scar poser |
| Foggy survivalists rott cats in Congo |
| 38 convo, blow a 3rd on my torso |
| When exposed, my snuff nose busts all foes |
| So, what the fuck you suppose happened? |
| For calling me out, fuck rapping |
| We gun clapping, the sharp shooter |
| It be the case with the stolen ruger |
| And left the prosecuter puffing on the Thai ruler |
| Son, my five exercised graphics, jiggy was drafted |
| In thug war the shit gets drastic, you bastard |
| Thug was, thug war… |