Father's Day
I wanna deal with a bigger asshole
The streets, it's coming down hard
We got to get our shit together
We always had music, eating off the game
Like you was never gon' run dry, that ain't no business
No other game is run so disorganized
Look around you, every hood that's taking care of business
Is together, dig it, tight?
I can't spend my life running away
For what it's worth, how much dirt can I get done in a day?
I got, clip in the AK., a blunt in the tray
I'm a beast, fuck the police, N.W.A.
Ya'll play this game that the hustler's play
And if you dress in the metrosexual way
Then muthafucka you gay
Y'all can save this drama for Kay Slay
Like who's fucking my chick
Or writing books about sucking my dick
Now I don't give a fuck what they say 'cause once I put on my cool
They see my life and wanna put on my shoes
Top of the world, ma look at your dude
I dig a chick with a attitude
But I don't let her cook up my food
It's like these young niggas hugging the strip
Who got the power to move bricks and buildings
Never loving the bitch, stripping with game
Y'all can guzzle a sip, ain't nothing change
My niggas is off the chain and we don't muscle the pit
Can I get a [Incomprehensible]? Ayo, this bounce right here
For all my Wu-Tang muthafuckas in the house, tonight
Soon as I, pick up my pen, I begin my flow
I close my eyes then write rhymes in a blackout mode
My Uzi, weigh over a ton, CD plays over
I do my crime with baking soda, with no odor
Pull out like boat motor streams, crack your shoulder wing
Def Squad decoder ring, psychopath bordering
My dog's shitting on your lawn while you watering
Pay the fine, order him to shit on your lawn again
D.O.C. get it, C.O.D. my hood
P.O.P. nigga, N.J. deep baby
Jersey state of mind, Method Man, lock 'em in
Ya'll niggas give a fuck, punk, we the opposite, yup
I hear you gossiping, 'cause we on
Just because I rock, don't mean I'm made of stone
My bones is sturdy, I wake up to get it early
When I bully the streets, my Co-D is Keith Murray
In a hurry, back down, the boy roll with us
This how it sound when the voice is transmitted
Bricks to Staten Island, where babies turn into killers
That's why my Cadillac bear more arms than caterpillars, let's get it
Can I get a [Incomprehensible]? Ayo, this bounce right here
For all my Wu-Tang muthafuckas in the house, tonight
The streets, it's coming down hard
We got to get our shit together
We always had music, eating off the game
Like you was never gon' run dry, that ain't no business
No other game is run so disorganized
Look around you, every hood that's taking care of business
Is together, dig it, tight?
I can't spend my life running away
For what it's worth, how much dirt can I get done in a day?
I got, clip in the AK., a blunt in the tray
I'm a beast, fuck the police, N.W.A.
Ya'll play this game that the hustler's play
And if you dress in the metrosexual way
Then muthafucka you gay
Y'all can save this drama for Kay Slay
Like who's fucking my chick
Or writing books about sucking my dick
Now I don't give a fuck what they say 'cause once I put on my cool
They see my life and wanna put on my shoes
Top of the world, ma look at your dude
I dig a chick with a attitude
But I don't let her cook up my food
It's like these young niggas hugging the strip
Who got the power to move bricks and buildings
Never loving the bitch, stripping with game
Y'all can guzzle a sip, ain't nothing change
My niggas is off the chain and we don't muscle the pit
Can I get a [Incomprehensible]? Ayo, this bounce right here
For all my Wu-Tang muthafuckas in the house, tonight
Soon as I, pick up my pen, I begin my flow
I close my eyes then write rhymes in a blackout mode
My Uzi, weigh over a ton, CD plays over
I do my crime with baking soda, with no odor
Pull out like boat motor streams, crack your shoulder wing
Def Squad decoder ring, psychopath bordering
My dog's shitting on your lawn while you watering
Pay the fine, order him to shit on your lawn again
D.O.C. get it, C.O.D. my hood
P.O.P. nigga, N.J. deep baby
Jersey state of mind, Method Man, lock 'em in
Ya'll niggas give a fuck, punk, we the opposite, yup
I hear you gossiping, 'cause we on
Just because I rock, don't mean I'm made of stone
My bones is sturdy, I wake up to get it early
When I bully the streets, my Co-D is Keith Murray
In a hurry, back down, the boy roll with us
This how it sound when the voice is transmitted
Bricks to Staten Island, where babies turn into killers
That's why my Cadillac bear more arms than caterpillars, let's get it
Can I get a [Incomprehensible]? Ayo, this bounce right here
For all my Wu-Tang muthafuckas in the house, tonight
Credits
Writer(s): Clifford Smith, Reggie Noble, Tyrone Fyffe, Joe Simon, Aseneth Peek, King Sterling
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.