versuri Foxy Brown - 456 versuri muzica Foxy Brown versurile melodiei 456

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Versuri 456




[Beanie Seigel] Ughh, ughh, yeah This is Beanie Seigel That Philly cat playin' wit that silly rap Put your weight up, not your hate up, niggas Y'all know how I play quiet towns and tie 'em down Haters wonderin' how I got a position with rock Cuz I listen to The LOX and I listen then watch While you still sittin' in spot, ditchin' the cops I'm in the Porsche Box with Fox, glistenin' watch Wore steel gray, Lexus, GS-4 That's an evil metal when the dog pedals to the floor I'm routin' down South, for my aim is to score Eight cylinder, screamin' 'Fuck the law!' Got a tank full of gas, trunk full of cash Hammers in the stash, scanners in the dash Radar detectors, troopers can't find us We bubble down ATL and hit the 'Linas Then get clubbed with some Dirty South thugs Go all out thugs, go in your house thugs Talk shit, put blood in your mouth thugs 36 south stuck, stay on route thugs You know how Mac play, quiet town, tie it down I supply it now, by the pound Might front you a cue if you buy a pound If you didn't try it then, why would you try it now? Then cuz Mac rat wouldn't fire a round into your crown I lay you down and retire you clown And I clap niggas, nat niggas kid a dirt Pat-pat with the deuce deuce, it'll work Bitch ass niggas wearin' thongs and skirts Catch 'em early in the mornin' while they goin' to work Hey you pretty motherfuckers stay stuck in the mirror And you weak ass niggas only buss out the fear I know y'all softer than them feathers that they stuf in the dear I pack two barettas, never bust in their ear Twist your shit back, spit 'til my gats is back Pack four pieces like a Kit Kat. Heh, get that? Cop Cris' by the six-pack, Range Rov?' Dot six that Benz Coupe, drop six that Buggy eye seven come out? Shit, took the six back Switch the Double R, the Double R's are, gotta get that You see how we play, pop Cris' on the E-Way Soakin' the seat, gettin' drunk with glee Or the sharp bar, grill Simon, poppin' Dom P Why you chicken when you chasin' your how with hot tea Niggas flashin' back money like it's they money Slap 500 on back of a three-twenty I'm bringin' it to any nigga tryin' to shoot games (yeah) With them bullshit buggy-eyed kits and CDs [Memphis Bleek] Check it out, yo, yo Well, I'm a lil' nigga don't speak, I tote heat Here to shut down your whole operation on the street Bleek, you know niggas just had to recruit this My flow drewl out like a old nigga toothless Who would believe they pump Bleek with Ritilin Too hyped up, but weed calm my adrenaline Roll day on the strip, SK in the crib Hundred crack viles, playin' the Benj' Nickel nine gleam, like this Armoral-ed up My squad be armed up, gotcha niggas' arms up Who the fuck want what? Me and Bean's trumped up Witcha town under seige, Dillinger in the sleave If my gun jam, you niggas squeeze on me You niggas them cats got the code-d's on me I'm on to my off game, leave the stadium for in stores Floss chains and I pimp whores, stay smoked out Shirt be poked out with the slums knows eight Six to jump out, you eat what you spit Motherfucker die clean For you actin' tought cats, but in your heart you scream I read your body languo You want violence and don't wanna mingle You want a challange get it brought to for every angle This shit'll slow 'em down, I bet that Ya up front dough and your six backed out, motherfucker [Foxy Brown] Sassy Fox some brick money, cop me a drop You know how I run it, 600, glassy top Rock them light gray wrist shit, flash the rocks The red, the yellow, the green, causin' traffic stops Bitch please, never freeze, gonna blast the glock Then I show a little cleave' and breeze past the cops You talk slick but suck dick for money in y'all hand I'm like 'Bitch, I got more money than your man' While you get your knees scraped up, cum all on your glands Shit, I'm in the V Twinz ballin' them tramps Y'all hoes greasy, so I keep bitch easy Rookie, fuck you know about glocks and pock' books? You know Na Na rock that shit, Parada that shit And Scotch that shit, Dolce Gabba that shit Hollow points, top that shit, fuck you tryin' to aim Pop that shit, yeah, nigga, Fox got that shit You see the ice wrist shit, can you cop that shit Channel crocodile and ostrich shit, whoa You know my style, I be spendin' they cash And I'll show their little dick some celebrity ass And get 'em a brick, I know what style to get them niggas shit real Well, fuck, I let 'em live and lick the tip of my shit To remind 'em of some rose petals, candles, and shit Or some hydro like the nigga grew a plant in my shit So that's what it is, that's why them hoes mad at my shit See me wildin' in the four-six, stylin' on them bum-ass Goddess MC, y'all bitches is littles Foxes See my girls' friends, tossin' they little watches Cris? I pops it. Fuckin' a nigga topless Cats? I fouls on. Hoes? I styles on, nigga Wear y'all out then air y'all out Over here? Hustle from where, clear all out Shit, greyhound bitch, stay down bitch And I know Jigga see me here to lay down shit I will spray y'all niggas, waste y'all niggas Cuz I fucked the nigga and pay y'all niggas Shit, what the fuck





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