|
Fiend - Slangin' lyrics
[Master P] Yo, what's up nigga, this the colonel, MP. But uh, Fiend nigga, it's your muthafuckin time to shine. You gon mix this shit up with Bun B and Pimp C. U.G.K. and Fiend? This straight for all the niggas in the hood Niggas on the corner, every nigga in the penitentitary. Nigga, this busta muthafuckin free. This for all the real Niggas and bitches out there, ya heard me? No Limit style. Told y'all muthafuckas ain't No Limit. [Bun B] You muthafucka, I don't feel where you comin from I don't like your zone, bitch, your microphone bitch Your tone switch sound like you wanna dig your own ditch It's my pleasure to bring the shovel You been lookin for trouble So me and C and Fiend gon bust your bubble on the double Hut one, hut two, march nigga, fire off that torch nigga Straighten it out like starch nigga When I'm parched nigga, take a sip of some kerosene Mixed with promythosene, turn your block to a terror scene Shit you ain't never seen Twenty millimeter tank rounds eatin up everything Nowhere to run, hide, or back down I put my mack down, picked up my ass kicker Cause it blast thicker, hose and get off in that ass quicker The last nigga figured, he had a chance To make it to that chopper, shit in his pants Make the murder man dance We shine like clusters, to leave you in the dust Cause we tryin, to get rid a all you haters and you muthafuckin bustas [Chorus:(1) Fiend] Boy, we down south bangin Rollin with these hustlers Tryin to get rid a you hatas and you bustas [Chorus:(2) Fiend] X 3 Down south slangin Rollin with these hustlers Tryin to get rid a you hatas and you bustas [Pimp C] I got the cocaine lady, white lady, by the key I get them whole for ten, double up for seventeen Two outta one, step on it to win They essay's is my partna, mafia stamp on the end Two block solid, each one worth one I rock it up my seven and I chop it up with Bun A pocket fulla stones, hollin bout a wrong Smokin, ridin dirty, got a chip up in my cellphone Keep this shit pumped Get to pop the trunk Feelin light headed off some California skunk And bitch I come from Texas and love that shit to lean I'm down with Dj Screw and bitch it's U.G.K. and Fiend And we ridin with some killas, niggas bout they drama Pimp like a wheelers, and bitches like pirahnas I'm sweet James Jones, a pimp and a hustler Tryin to get rid a all you hatas And you muthafuckin pussy ass bustas [Chorus:(2)] X 4 [Fiend] What's the sense of it all? Pimpin, powder, and pussy tryin to make pennies Payin off, so friendly to flip with my people give me If any doubt, the south, in every show today, blown away From the wrong way, I'm killin these niggas the Jones way Let the psalm say, he died as a hata Sooner than later, shoulda pop em since the incubator My life is droppin heron, at the sharon Lookin, death dead on Knowin I was dead wrong From the sad songs, have you been to my city? If you ain't got shitty, everything is far from pretty But I'm one bad fucker that's always claimin tank Niggas know N.O., dank, and elevate My rank, what you call it? Bustin out the Expedition Fiend pimpin, blowin up corns coke and cat emissions My livin, resist the No Limit and stashin a duster Servin the cluckers, poppin it undercover We gettin rid a bustas [Chorus:(2)] X 6 |
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Last added lyrics |
|---|
 Christmas Fantasy by Anita Baker |
 The Dangermen Sessions, Vol. 1 by Madness |
 Loyal to the Game by 2Pac |
 Tomorrow and Yesterday by Samson |
 Lovers' Requiem by I Am Ghost |
