![]() |
Home | What's New | Lyrics Search | Archives | Submit | Guestbook | Bookmark | Links | Email |
|
|
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
[Intro: INF-Black] Gangster this and gangster that Half of ya'll ain't gangstas, so hold that *gun shot* Blaow! [U-God] I got a deathwish, my playlist is wreckless Almost famous but the natives gettin' restless Leave 'em breathless, guess who popped up With pile out, hear you talkin' like Wu's washed up Squash what, I got balls and guts, more deluxe The magnetic flux, in the all black tux' And my back's all hushed, lead showers for you mutts I devour the cuts with a power packed punch And cowards I hunt, when I ride with my gun I'm like a spoke on the wheel that glides on the drum Through the, smoke I reveal, I'm the rising sun That go through your shield, is he really that Hill? Let the streets decide, with nerves of steel Let the beats collide, with the death-defyin' skill And beneath the sky, lurkin' network of strangers That insert the danger with a touch of a finger [Chorus: Letha Face (INF-Black)] Oh no... watch... out... here... they... come (Gangster this and gangster that Half of ya'll ain't gangstas, so hold that *gun shot* Blaow! Stand up... with... my... real... nig... gas (Gangster this and gangster that Half of ya'll ain't gangstas, so hold that *gun shot* Blaow!) [INF-Black] Yo, aiyo, I'm speakin' for myself, my feets on stealth Fuck thirty deep, I'm in your hood for delf Blowin' trees with your main squeeze countin' my shells As I feed the clips to the T, handle it well Never been the one to front, son, my history's swell Tell you how it's gon' be, what it was and what it is Catch you in your sleep, thug, now your memory lives The streets get the buzz, no love, them same thugs snitch, bitch Learned you was livewire, mafia lie You get wired, by real gangstas and big buyers Messin' with fire, you ought to leave town Son, there's rules to this game, and these lames wanna be down Bringin' all clothes, most fold when it go d Please fill in the fields below and click SUBMIT to send it to your friend.
|
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
||
|
||
|
(c) 2002 - 2005 HotLyrics.net. All
Rights Reserved
All lyrics are property and copyright of their owners and provided for educational purposes only. |
||