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Текст песни South Central Cartel - Niggas Git Dealt Wit

South Central Cartel - Niggas Git Dealt Wit слова песни

[ Young Prod ]YeahPuttin it down like this, bitchS.C.C. back at yo ass, niggaFuck everybodyThat`s real[ VERSE 1: Young Prod ]Rides, from my six-fo` to my Lex-oBumpin, what would you do if you knew, locHow to put a lick down? Busta, you`se a amateurYou get scared when I glare, imagine if if I stare at yaThen you would have to test yo Pro-KedsCause I done drew down and bust a cap at your foreheadSo go `head and jet, but let your big homie knowIf he got static the automatics is ready-goAnd what I bang I claim real to the geeThe Cartel`s cavi, so can we calculate the CAs we be dumpin, locin as we slide on the d`sAnd we slip the clips to the B.G.Young P puts it down and ain`t nothing changinI`m aimin heat at your dome cause it`s gangstaBustas better raise up off the blocks when we rideCause glocks leave niggas shell-shocked and they die[ CHORUS ]O.G.`s get smokedB.B.`s get locedwith strapsso perhapsniggas get dealt withIf caps get peeled and niggas get servedwith strapsso perhapsniggas get dealt with[ VERSE 2: Havikk the Rhime Son ]I`m up early in the mornin, creasin my Karl Kani`s, I`m sagginI reach for my heat, yeah, that .44 magnumIt`s time to regulate your block, you get twistedI`m easin through your ass like a dick, now it`s on, bitchWelcome to the ill shit where niggas collapse in angerProvokes the Rhime Son to release one out of the chamberCrossin out our shit in the studio, foolio, you panicAnd get your ass sunk like the Titanic( ? ) up the cavi, proceedin to cause the ruckusMeditate with the evil and the devil couldn`t touch usIt`s Prode`je and Rhime Son, Rhime Son and Prode`jeExtendin like a clip, hittin dips, no sense in tryin meAin`t no love, focus on the realestNo future in your frontin cause you muthafuckas feel thisIt`s S.C.C. and Mouthpiece, so behold another comaI`m in your fuckin lung like pneumonia[ CHORUS ][ VERSE 3: Prode`je ]Fuckin with the realer body-bag-filler-type of niggasKillers that have you niggas chockin on your liversS.C. could never play the back so the wack I confrontedCocked the 12-guage and head-huntedHad to be a flea cause you fuckin with that geeHav`s got the S, Prod`s got the C.C.Gettin wreck, fools, you get dealth withLike them niggas Mobb Deep said: you be `shook` like a earthquakeStudio gees I refuse to seeWhen 87 times niggas was accused to gOf bein foulish, but I`ma leave you swoll` like a callousCancelled like Dallas, knock yo ass off balanceI put my foot up in that ass, bro, you didn`t knowThat I can bust your shit like a pimpleAnd when it`s over you be dead, geeI got your numberAnd sucker-ass niggas goin under[ CHORUS ][ Prode`je ]That`s right, muthafuckaNineteen-muthafuckin-ninety-sixThat S with them 2 C`s is gettin wreck on that assFinna dig a foot off in yo muthafuckin ass, niggaPunk muthafuckas thought we couldn`t come back with that real shitwith that shoot-to-kill shitHavikk the muthafuckin Rhime Son, Mouthpiece and Prode`jefinna break all you muthafuckas downThat`s rightFinna break all you muthafuckas downCause you punk-ass niggas get dealt with

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