Foxy Brown - 456 текст песни

[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

Yall 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

Im in the porsche box with fox, glistenin watch

Wore steel gray, lexus, gs-4

Thats an evil metal when the dog pedals to the floor

Im 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 cant 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 didnt try it then, why would you try it now?

Then cuz mac rat wouldnt 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, itll 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 yall 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 rs 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 its they money

Slap 500 on back of a three-twenty

Im 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, Im a lil nigga dont 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 beans 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-ds on me

Im 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 dont wanna mingle

You want a challange get it brought to for every angle

This shitll 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 yall hand

Im like bitch, I got more money than your man

While you get your knees scraped up, cum all on your glands

Shit, Im in the v twinz ballin them tramps

Yall 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 Ill 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 thats what it is, thats why them hoes mad at my shit

See me wildin in the four-six, stylin on them bum-ass

Goddess mc, yall 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 yall out then air yall 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 yall niggas, waste yall niggas

Cuz I fucked the nigga and pay yall niggas

Shit, what the fuck