Snitches & Bitches

415

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    [ JED ]
    Nigga what's up
    What?
    What's yo muthafuckin problem?
    - Better than sayin jack
    They let me go
    Yo muthafucka, I don't wanna hear that weak shit
    - Nigga what?
    Fuck that, I don't wanna hear that weak shit,
    you old rat-infested goverment informant cheese-eatin ass son of a bitch!
    You better have your vest on cause you 'bout to come up short
    ( *shots* )

    [ VERSE 1: Richie Rich ]
    Caught a brother one day gettin out of a cop car
    I know there's more to come, but the few that have so far
    Talked to police about more than a court date
    They're victims of a certain situation I'll illustrate
    Day-to-day pigeons poppin all that junk
    About the dollars they makin, a half a ki in the trunk
    Mobile phone in his lap and ten cars in the shop
    Sellin more than coke and side orders of hop
    But there's a catch to that, the boy wasn't prepared
    He caught a case on a humbug, now he's scared
    No more hangin with the fellas drinkin gin and juice
    He's in a situation now where he can't be loose
    Everybody wears jailies and sleeps on bunks
    And it's easy to tell the men from the punks
    So the ones who rhyme but run they mouths like bitches
    Wants to hit the bullpen, they turn snitches

    [ JED ]
    That's why I don't fuck with these old soft ass niggas,
    out here runnin round here like they 187 artists.
    Killers don't talk!
    And these hoes supposed to be high roller ass niggas?
    Ain't that a bitch!
    Everytime I look around instead of stickin to the rules of the game,
    they let circus asses makin decisions for themselves.
    [ Richie Rich ]
    Yeah, it's hard times, Young JED,
    but it goes a little somethin like this:

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    [ VERSE 2: Richie Rich ]
    The game is hard as wood, the macks don't splinter
    But yet and still trick-ass niggas wanna enter
    And with ballot in hand they rush to vote
    To elect themselves into this game of dope
    But yo bro, the situation is real
    Don't slip in this game on a banana peel
    There's a lot of brothers runnin around pluckin collars
    Stuck up due to the fact they got dollars
    Most of em punks gettin marked by young bitches
    Put in the county, and the punks turn snitches
    Given a alias, now he's set free
    Or offered his job to be an f-e-d
    I don't understand how a brother could turn
    His cheek on another, homie, when will ya learn?
    The talkin to cops makes it ten times worse
    But they keep on talkin, verse after verse
    Why do brothers wanna hop in this game?
    Runnin around, they don't know the main frame
    And when they're caught, they get to talkin like Polly
    But they don't want a cracker, just bumpin em, snitchin
    You know what I mean?
    Now it's the high rollers and not the fiends
    Take off the Rolex and park all the cars
    You just a punk, yeah, you know who you are
    Why did you get in the game if you wasn't equipped?
    So what you're havin money and your car is whipped?
    Keep talkin to police, then you're gonna get ???
    Cause you'se a punk in a city of players, you'se a stupid muthafucka

    [ JED ]
    Double R..
    What's up with these old broke, bus ticket-type ass bitches out here, huh?
    Always tryin to get with a nigga with some mail..
    They need to get a muthafuckin j-o-b..
    Quit blowin up these niggas' beepers,
    old stankin ass muthafuckin bitches..
    Here's somethin I wanna tell all you hoes:
    Fuck you!

    [ VERSE 3: Richie Rich ]
    Man, these hoes in the Town ain't shit
    Can't fuck with a nigga unless he's rich
    Sportin gold ones, man, tryin to make that mail
    Hoe mopin and hopin that you would treat her to nails
    Hoe, I can't treat, nah, nah, it's '89
    Back in '87 when I was stuck to the grind
    Money flowin like a river but hoe, I'm not trickin
    My Zapco's hittin so hard, the light's clippin
    Girls on the bus stop, all of them coppin a plea
    To get with the man who slings d
    Whether ridin a 'Stang or a rag top Beamer
    The h-o's want to get with who's cleaner
    So boys from the O, all of those who make riches
    What do we do? Dog bitches
    Knockin and sockin is a everyday thing
    The turfs and the side show is where the boys hang
    Hoe on jock for a brother with a fade
    Some zeniths, some vogues and the boy's got it made
    As she makes the block with a baby in a stroller
    Her only destination: to find a high roller
    But hoe get real, run and go get a job
    Cause if I ever come to snatch ya, I be ridin a mob

    ( *horn honked* )
    [ woman ]
    Who is that?
    [ Richie Rich ]
    It's me, come on..
    [ woman ]
    Ah-ah, I didn't recognize you in that shit..
    Where your Mustang?
    [ Richie Rich ]
    Ain't that about a bitch?
    These hoes out here think niggas gon' taxi em around on gold ones?
    Nah-nah, it's 1990, y'all hoes better ??? to these muthafuckin old schools
    Bitch, jump in the bucket..
    [ woman ]
    The door don't open..
    [ JED ]
    Double R, fuck that hoe!
    Tell her make like the muthafuckin Duke boys and crawl through the muthafuckin window

    (Snitches) (snitches) [fades]
    (Bitches) (bitches) [fades]

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