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B.G.

It`s All On U Volume 2

  rap  dirty south  hip-hop  gangsta rap  hip hop  rap  dirty south  hip-hop  gangsta rap  hip hop
1,169 3 часа назад

Текст песни B.G. - It`s All On U Volume 2

B.G. - It`s All On U Volume 2 слова песни

First Verse:Stop it right there, I dare you to cross that lineDo it I`ma feel you ain`t respectin` my mindI gets loose, backed up, with long toysIt`s no truce fuckin` with these hot boysDo whatever it takes to wipe your clique off the Earth,Both cliques can`t live, somebody gotta see dirt,What makes you think I`ma let`cha ride first?Try to hide out, that makes shit worseBelieve I`m comin`, a hundred in the drum and,I don`t spanked somethin`,Got the set wonderin`,Bitch niggas runnin`,Cable is comin`,That`s what`cha get THINK I ain`t bout nothin`,You done been showed, brains blowed,You should have knowed, New Orleans carry no hoesSay what`s up to Satan, B.G. ain`t bout no fakin`,I handle mine with no debatin` stop underestimatin`Chorus:You think I ain`t gone split a wig? Think again,You guessin` and underestimatin` "U" all "N"You think I ain`t gone split a wig? "U" all "N"You guessin` and understimatin`, think againYou think I ain`t gone split a wig? Think again,You guessin` and underestimatin` "U" all "N"You think I ain`t gone split a wig? "U" all "N"You guessin` and understimatin`, think againSecond Verse:I`ma silent nigga, you know mobsters eat lobsters,I`ma rider nigga, riders tote choppers,I`ma gangsta nigga, gangstas wet shirts,I`ma thinker nigga, thinkers ride first,I`ma youngster nigga, youngsters takin` over,I`ma soldier, trip get it knocked off your shoulder,I`ma roller nigga, you can`t predict me,Thinkin` I`m fake, you can`t know me,I come hard with `tillery four deep,Remember I tear down both sides of the street,Nigga I be, the Ca$h Money B.G.,Ain`t no sleep if you beef with me,I`ll let you know I`m comin` nigga I ain`t gotta creep,I`ll be in all black with reeboks on my feet,Say what`s up to Satan, B.G. ain`t bout no fakin`,I handle mine with no debatin`, stop underestimatin`ChorusThird Verse:Don`t think I`m lame, don`t judge me off your thoughts mane,Come at me sideways I hook up with Juv, Turk, and Wayne,You can`t explain, you wanna be hard don`t whine,I click-clats it back and let you tell it to my nine,Sendin` messages, say I`ma bitch you`ll leave me wetI can`t believe you believe I take death threats,You`re wrong Wootay, you`re absolutely wrongNow it`s on Wootay, your seventeen damagin` health,That`s another spankin` completed under my belt,Your Mom in black on the floor her seein` that her son done been left,Brains cooked like a chef, too late for Doctors to help,It`s All On U, you brought that issue on yourself,Think you could know me, got kicked off the shelf,I hustle with muscle just to increase my wealth,Nigga say what`s up to Satan, B.G. ain`t bout no fakin`,I handle mine with no debatin`, stop underestimatin`ChorusThink....fore you get checkmated

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