Down Bottom

Juvenile

    Continúa después del anuncio

    Oh! Damn, now bop to this
    Yeah, uhh, uhh, y'all know what this is (flame on)
    Juvenile, Drag-On (flame on)
    And now.. Swizz Swizz Beats, yea!

    [Drag-On]
    Me and my niggaz done licked shots, even done hit cops
    Betcha niggaz can't wait til my shit drop
    Treat you like your momma, give you lip a pop
    Nigga you don't want my clip to drop
    Cause that means I'm empty, and you're full of it
    Check what the bullet did
    Missiles gonna hit you get you, rip through tissue
    Shoot another rhyme just cause I missed you
    I make plus cash, you little niggaz can't fuck wit Drag
    Got the chain out, so his muscle grabs
    Nigga fuck that, you better bust back
    'fore ya monkey-ass land where the dust at
    Ride like the girl but you can't trust cash
    Spit line of fire and he can't touch black
    All you can do is cuss back
    in your weak raps bout how you bust gats
    Nigga we don't need that, I don't care about your feedback
    Y'all niggaz don't feed Drag
    Til a motherfucker pull out, bust a bullet out
    in the safe house, nigga where the keys at
    Nigga where the stash at, nigga where the weed at
    Nigga pass that 'fore I pull my trigger
    Matter fact where the ass at, cause I got the "Rough Rider"
    and I ain't talkin bout my niggaz
    Cause nigga we can go hoe for hoe, toe to toe, blow for blow
    and when you feel your nose crack
    That mean I broke that, I fill a po'-po' wit a flame thrower
    like I told yo' befo' ya know umm - you can't handle
    You can put me on wax but my fire burn candles
    And who that nigga Ruff Rydin, Drag-On
    Y'all niggaz and Southsiders

    Chorus: Drag-On + Various (repeat 2X)

    Continúa después del anuncio

    Do y'all niggaz bust y'all guns?
    (Hell yeah we bust our guns!!)
    Do y'all fuck them til they cum?
    (Damn right we make them cum!!)
    It's for the North (HEY) South (HEY)
    East (HEY) West (HEY)
    Ruff Ryders gonna show y'all niggaz who ride the best

    [Juvenile]
    Hmmmm, hmmmmmmmm
    In the late night, we be cockin high and givin you stage fright
    Yo head might explode, when I bust with the lead pipe
    Now say it right, Juvenile, HE tight
    Stay hype, now page Mike and make sure he got all the yea, aight?
    I'm tired of you niggaz, be thinkin that you usin me
    Runnin with them petty-ass niggaz lookin like fools to me
    I'm workin wit some change aiy
    And aint afraid to put fifty up on ya brain yay
    You bout warrin over yo' people I'm the same yay
    Look, I'ma have somebody sayin that's the shame yay
    But if them people come they ain't gon' give no names yay
    Play with the number one stun'na don't play no games yay
    Come outside and see nothin but camouflage and bricks
    Them gather up boys strapped with cannons
    tryin to knock off yo' shit, you stanky bitch
    I'll Ruff Ryde your ass then, Cash in for Money
    Juven' ain't gettin nuttin ha ha hah that shit is funny

    Chorus

    [Drag-On]
    When my niggaz get knocked we gonna bail them out
    When it come to my gun my shells is out
    You better get the message, cause I done mailed it out
    that I'ma bang it like a hammer and I'ma nail the South
    East West, and write letters for my niggaz up North
    My guns made in China, so you better dust off
    Comin to getcha, you gon' bleed ketchup, I always got cheddar
    I never ass bet ya, and I won't even sweat ya
    You won't roll four and better
    My dough is never low, but if Drag is down on his last
    I'ma reach in my sweater, bet my Baretta
    Make a nigga feel the heat in the cold weather
    Can't stand a nigga hype, throw me his bitch
    Bitch come to my shit, you betta come get her
    Be like a dog with a bone I run with her
    Y'all make me so tired
    Y'all niggaz still rappin like you don't know my flow is fire
    and y'all ain't got ya suits, ain't got ya boots
    Probably gotta gun that ain't never shoot
    When we come you better hope they don't name you
    Cause like two sticks rubbin I'll flame you
    Don't try to be me cause I ain't you
    'fore I have your spirit with the angels
    My shorty keep a gun on the ankles
    Wanna fuck? Watch out she'll bang you
    cause I taught her well, y'all players better haul to hell
    But you niggaz couldn't borrow a belt
    Whoever wit you is goin to jail
    Do you niggaz bust your guns? Oh you ain't bustin none, huh?
    You wanna fuck em til they cum, huh?
    Drag-On, Juvenile, Double R, what you want huh?

    Chorus 2X

    Información de la canción

    Composición: Drag On, Juvenile y Kasseem Dean

    ¿Los datos están equivocados?

    Enviar revisión

    Canciones relacionadas