Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 100 Bars, artist - Ya Boy. Album song Shooter Music/ Kush 2009, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 26.02.2009
Record label: Get Low
Song language: English
100 Bars |
One, two, three to the fo' |
Bitch I’m a pimp, I don’t speak to no hoes |
You niggas never match MC’s with no flows |
It don’t add up, like me with no dough |
I swear to God, just last year I was broke |
On the block selling dope, watching my niggas snort coke (Now) |
My life changed, from the planes to the boats |
From the chains to the clothes, don’t need Game for these hoes |
They just hop in the Range and we go |
Switching lanes, baby go’n give me brains on the low |
Never lame, born and raised in the Sco |
Niggas hate, but they won’t say a thing to me though |
It’s like that, and as a matter of fact |
I got powers with the powder, Harry Potter the crack |
Every hour I devour, money shower with that |
Lemonheads in my ears, how sour is that? |
Real sour, I break shit down like Twin Towers |
Nabbed ya' bitch, had the bitch, bitch holla |
It ain’t 'bout dollars? |
I don’t want to hear about it |
Never square, boy this nigga right here about it |
Call me Ya Boy, for short call me YB |
Don’t try me, carry gun like I. D |
But fuck guns, I keep niggas beside me |
And we’ll beat a punk nigga down like Rodney |
Feel I’m the king when it come to this rap thing |
If I ain’t have a mic, I probably clap things |
Or post all night, serving things to the crack fiends |
Boy, I got runners like the coach of the track team |
Yes, I’m focused, vision clear as a flat screen |
You broke niggas not eating you’re fasting |
I’m telling you: All the hoods, they feel dude |
They like, «Pac gone, but fuck it, he’ll do» |
A lot of jealous niggas, they be trying to kill dude |
Because the boy pockets green as mildew |
And in the west, if I ain’t the best |
Or at least second, I’ll put a weapon up to my chest (Yeah) |
Haters don’t want to see me breathe |
Cause they know I got Next like MTV |
They can’t see me like bootleg DVDs |
'Cause I got more pads than the MPC |
Catch me dippin' in a Jag, seaweed green |
I’m in a league of my own, you in the pee-wee league |
When I was broke, still my grill at least three Gs |
Now I talk with a smile, let the VVs breathe |
It’s Ya Boy, I represent the CDP |
You a ho dog, you be were the weenies be |
You the man when the east coast talk about ya' |
Buzzin' in the streets, each coast speak about ya' |
That’s me, and if you ain’t here |
It’s 'bout to get ugly, like Freeway’s beard |
It’s the streets, you don’t get a lot of leeway here |
It get hotter than a motherfuckin' heat wave here |
Trust me, boy, it’s a lot of heat-play here |
Leave you M.I.A. |
like the Heat play here |
Wear guns to surpass the hatin' |
Tie the MAC 'round my neck, it’s a fashion statement |
I laugh at you clowns, thinkin' I’m the same dude |
I’m not as quiet as I was back in grade school |
I’m much sicker, with an addiction to spray tools |
And like a Game, I’m just dyin' to play fools |
So run up if you think I’m a chump |
I’ll leave your body in the trunk, smellin' just like skunk |
I’ll leave your head in your lap, right after I dump |
Even Ashton Kutcher couldn’t make your nucka a punk (Ha) |
I be thuggin' till I’m at the pearly tall gates |
'Cause I’ve been thuggin' since 20s had a small face |
I’m still thuggin' and, 20s got a large face |
Ya Boy, the black '06 version of Scarface |
And the Bay is where I made my name |
Where them niggas go dumb like Damon Wayans |
Yeah it’s hyphy, but some niggas, they be goin all out |
So I don’t go dumb 'cause the gun might fall out |
Trust me, dog, I’m not the nigga you should call out |
I’m looking at your teeth and I’ma knock 'em all out |
Twice as big as I was befo' |
And the radio won’t even play my song no mo' |
But It’s cool, I’m in the streets like a hydrant though |
So when they ask who the best, they reply «Ya Yo |
That nigga Ya Boy, that boy got a fiery flow» |
Hoes tryin' to make me they man, my reply is «No» |
Yes, you can get on your knees and blow |
And put my thing in your mouth, but easy though |
A hot boy, I don’t sound like Weezy though |
Got snow, but I don’t think I got a Jeezy flow |
I’m the truth, I could go R&B and blow |
But this rap game’s so fuckin' easy though |
I’m the pizza man, I got cheese and dough |
My H-Town niggas got me off leanin' dro |
Niggas think I’m a ho, ti’l I squeeze the fo' |
And that’ll change they mind like Keyshia Cole |
And I’m single, somebody let Keyshia know |
That I break backs and leave girls leanin', yo (Ha) |
The girls choose 'cause my penis better |
Not to mention I’m hot like Phoenix weather |
Not to mention you cold, you won’t even go gold |
When I drop, I’ma go platinum times fo' |
That’s fo' million sales from Florida to Wales |
'Cause I got more bars than four million jails |
And I’m holding the twelve gauge for you lames |
Aim at your brain, leave your membrane rearranged |
If you don’t think I’m the truth, you retarded |
Record labels, get the biddin' war started |