True Crime Remix Lyrics. From Movie "True Crime: Streets of LA"

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True Crime Remix Lyrics


by Young Dre, Bishop Lamont, Black. From True Crime: Streets of LA.


(talking)
It's been said the west was dead(True Crime)
Witness the rebirth resurrection(True Crime)
Com'mo(True Crime)
The west coast said it's fine in yours(True Crime)

(Verse 1)
Welcome to the city of killas, movie makers, in drug dealers
Big bad Los Angeles
Land of the scandeles
Hit a thug wit a slug
Make him turn to vandalis
Gettin money religious home of three strike life sentence
Hittin fences on crime sprees
Shootin at police
Cat that'll drive-by
Anonymous shootinize
Anonymous hood fights
Turf wars every night not even wood to conquer
Blistin pistols is poppin
In we under the microscope
Distribute disputin dope in the city niggas is shitty snatch you outta ya bentley it was erotic come get me
Merotic
In killas wit me
In the back of the bucket pump it
Broad day light fuck it
In a murda wagon bangin on sumthin (skert)
I puts in work
Leavin yo hood hurt
By all means necessary
West coast legendary
I'm gray on the front line
Bare witness to true crime

(Chorse)
Give me a gun, in give me a knife
It's true crimes better run for ya life
Hide ya kids, hold ya wife
It's true crimes better tuck ya ice
Clutch is hurt, stach the cash
It's true crimes I'm about ta blast
Call the cops in lock the doors
It's true crimes in I'm takin yours

(Verse 2)
Shit
Ain't nuttin left ta spit
I done kick enough shit ta get da wha on ma dick
I'm Hudinny in a bennie got that magic stick
They in bikinis enie meni they me take ma pick
It's like Rip sayin mista yo is that yo chick
They way I'm pimpin in this game
It don't make you sick
I'm in a thang wit wood grain wit a top dat flip
While ya faggot ass is ridin on a bike like bic trick
This ain't no game
I'm Activision, cataclysm, bringing extra ammunition You can really end up missin if you freakin wit ma mission
yo We meetin na mortician you knew butician I'm not drew dissin So You listen in pay close attention ok before I
go From rappa ta killa milla gorilla the mac milla spillin don't get me reckin shit like makin godzilla yea

(Chorse)

(Verse 3)
I'm from a place where they smoke sherm, in shoot dice, in wear weave caps
Or drink car in cuttin sin
Naw don't make back
Hub caps across the neck
Drinkin tall cans of coke in crossin out ya set
You can call me a hatta
I'm probably one
I ain't neva had shit that's why I'm palmin a gun
I'll rape you for every thing the gum in ya mouth
All I had this mornin was some straight crumbs from the couch
So call me the caller back
I toss slugs give you wings like a quaters back shit
I'm from the place where they raise pits, in dickie suits, in curl kits
In drink a henasse till we earl in shit
A west coast representative wit da rag in ma pocket wit the blue penalten
Let me let you know who it is
B.L.A.C.K.{Laugh}

(Chorse)

(Verse 4)
Look here
Don't let me catch you in na streets
If I catch you in na streets
I'mma wet you wit da heats
I'm not gon step to you or speak
Or give you a fake pound or bless you wit a speech(So chill)
Dude we in a Snoopdeville
Raised up right corner
Drop left three wheel(I said chill)
You know the crew is ill
Track like a group on'em thangs swoop at da wheel
They say the verses is magic
When you above average
You mergein in traffic
In I don't stop so get get
Spit it fa critics ma digits opposite of midgets
Whos ya main man ta flow
I never went hollywood
I changed ma flow
In took ya places niggas scared ta go
In as soon as they find me I ain't there no mo ya know

(Chorse)


(Talkin- True Crimes sung in back ground)
You wanna talk about the new breed in whats really gonin down.
Oh the game ain't over baby.
Swoop got a bangin track.
Game just started.
Bright!
Holla at'em.
(Crimes)True Crimes.
True Crime.

[Thanks to college118@yahoo.com for lyrics]




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"True Crime: Streets of LA" lyrics


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